


Mixology

by dafeedil



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Drunken Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Hand Jobs, Implied Harry Styles/Michael Clifford, Implied Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Lashton - Freeform, M/M, Nightclub AU, Pining, Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Inexperience, Shy Luke, Smut, a lot of it, bartender!ashton, but they find love anyway, just a lot of flirting overall tbh, life is hard for everyone, malum, tbh so much goes on during this I'm not sure what else to tag, well for Luke anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dafeedil/pseuds/dafeedil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In which Michael is reeling from a recent breakup, Calum has just flunked a semester of university, Luke has never taken a risk in his life, and Ashton has taken too many.</em>
</p><p><em>One night, four boys, one Los Angeles bar. A recipe for...well, quite possibly, </em>not<em> disaster.</em></p><p>(or, they all meet at a bar and fall hopelessly in love for the night. Only, it's actually a lot more than that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixology

**Author's Note:**

> Idea for this story comes from Valentine's Day and New Year's Eve, because I love the idea of different people's stories overlapping during one night. The fic really isn't anything like those movies, though, just loosely inspired by their concept.
> 
> There are links sprinkled throughout this to show what their drinks look like (for people who might not be familiar with them), because that's hella fun, right? Yeah.
> 
> I DEDICATE THIS TO AUTUMN, my lovely beta and confidant during the weeks it's taken me to write this baby. Enjoy!

**_"Which F are you drinking to? Fuck, forget, or fun?"_ **

*********

Michael doesn't know why he's here. Well, like, he  _knows_ , but that doesn't make him any more inclined to be here. He's being forced, held against his will - or so he complains. He's really not, but it makes him feel more dignified to blame someone else for how out of place he is.

It's cold in Los Angeles - too cold for Michael's liking. He's not used to this weather, having just moved to the states a few months ago for school, back before the temperature dropped.

The queue he's in inches forward slightly, and he huffs in relief, watching as the clouds of his breath swarm in front of him. Lately, it's just something to watch. He finds it's easier to focus on his breathing than it is to focus on other people around him.

He watches as the bouncer shoos away a couple of wasted guys that have been bar hopping. Michael crinkles his nose in disgust, then turns to face the two friends that he's here with (ahem, that  _dragged him here_ , thanks).

Jack and Alex are behind him, not-so-discreetly calling dibs on girls they see entering the queue. Michael rolls his eyes at them, tugging at Alex's jacket to get his attention.

Alex turns to look at Michael, a smile spreading across his stubble covered face. "Ready to party?" He asks.

Michael shrugs, and Jack claps one of his large hands down on his shoulder. "C'mon, Clifford. You'll get a couple'a drinks in you, meet a hot guy, maybe even take him home." He winks, and Michael blushes. "I think this could do you a lot of good."

Michael bites his lip, looking down at his feet. Yeah, he can tell his friends mean well. He's been doing nothing but mope around for a couple of months now, since the Incident.

Alex frowns, wrapping an arm around the youngest of the three's shoulders, pulling him along as the line moves forward and they find themselves only a couple of people away from the entrance. "Mikey, I know you don't want to be here. But if nothing else, you can just be with us and have fun like you used to. Before."

Michael nods, brushing a piece of dyed red fringe out of his eyes. He leans into Alex's touch a little, wants to close his eyes and breathe in his cologne and savor the familiarity of it. His best friends ground him, even though he's been flailing aimlessly the past several weeks.

He feels Jack touch his head, fixing chunks of his hair. "I agree. He took everything from you, I get it. But don't let him take  _you_ , Mikey. You're still surviving."

Jack doesn't elaborate on the  _he_ ; he doesn't need to. Michael knows all too well, because he dated the mentioned guy for two years before it spontaneously ended two months ago.

The line moves forward, and then they're next. The bouncer holds up a flashlight, giving them tight smiles and asking for their IDs. Jack cracks a joke about how flattered he is to still get carded after all these years, but the bouncer doesn't seem too impressed and Alex must have pinched the skunk haired boy because he squeaks and backhands the brunette's arm.

Miraculously, they get in unscathed. The lights aren't crazy, so not everyone looks washed out like the clubs in the movies make them seem. There are several booths, tables, and couches strung throughout the room, as well as a small dance floor off to the side. 

In the middle of it all is a large, rectangular, wrap around bar, with racks of alcohol visible to Michael and five different bartenders rushing to satisfy all the approaching customers.

It's busy, busier than it looked from outside. But from the size of the queue, Michael should've guessed it was a hot spot.

Alex and Jack manage to snag them an empty table. As soon as they've sat down, a petite blonde waitress approaches them, bearing a notepad and a pearly smile. Michael's pretty sure he hears Jack mutter "dibs", but if the waitress hears anything, she ignores it.

"Hey, boys! Have you just got in?" She asks, and they all nod. "How fun! Should I open a tab for ya?"

Alex hands her his card, waving Jack off when he attempts to give her his instead. They bicker like a couple of three year olds for awhile, before the waitress clears her throat and raises an eyebrow.

"A [Manhattan](http://liquor.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/bulleit-perfect-manhattan1.jpg), please," Michael tells her, and she smiles before offering him a wink. She writes it down, but before she can saunter off, Alex speaks up.

"And a round of shots!"

Jack agrees, shouting loudly and high fiving his friend. Michael just rolls his eyes, wishing he'd ordered some extra bourbon in his drink. It already feels like it's going to be a long night, despite that his best friends keep claiming it'll be a blast. He just wants to be at home, curled up under the covers of his empty king sized bed and tearing up as he watches The Notebook for at  _least_ the fifth time in a row.

A few minutes later, the waitress arrives with their drinks, setting the shots in a line on the table and handing the Manhattan to Michael with a comforting smile. He doesn't like that she can tell he's trying to drown himself in alcohol, doesn't like that he's even  _at_ this fucking bar, but he does his best to return the gesture as he takes the drink from her and holds it in his clammy palm.

Alex and Jack plead with him to take a shot with them, so Michael obliges, gripping the small glass cup between his thumb and forefinger, waiting while Alex counts down from three.

The tequila burns his throat when he tosses it back, but it's something he's grown accustomed to in the last couple months. Being drunk is so much easier than being sober when your heart is broken. He's found that out the hard way.

He likes the scratch in his throat the shot has given him (he doesn't even need chasers anymore), so he offers to go order them another round. His friends cheer like he's some kind of hero, and Michael just laughs at them before approaching the bar.

He shouts the simple order to an overworked and exhausted looking bartender with dirty blonde curls and dimples that appear even though his smile is forced. While he's waiting, Michael's eye is caught by something to his right, and when he allows his gaze to follow it, his eyes land on quite possibly the most depressed - and gorgeous - looking guy he has  _ever_ seen.

The guy is looking straight ahead, his lean, tanned fingers wrapped around a nearly empty [Blue Hawaiian](http://www.saveur.com/sites/saveur.com/files/2013-09/recipe_blue-hawaii_681x1200.jpg) - a fucking  _Blue Hawaiian_ ; Michael has to repress a snort - and eyes trained ahead blankly. His fluffy brown hair has little flicks of blonde going through it, and from what Michael can see of his jawline, it looks so sharp it could cut a man.

But he looks so  _sad_. More sad than Michael feels, and that's pretty fucking sad.

So Michael asks, "You alright, man?"

The guy jerks a little, looking up at Michael with his brown doe eyes and a deep frown. His eyebrows furrow, and he shakes his head slightly. "What? Yeah, dude, whatever. I'm fine."

And wow, okay,  _rude._ Michael just shrugs and rolls his eyes, thanking the bartender when he walks over and sets the shots down in front of Michael.

Before the bartender - Ashton, his name tag says - can leave, Michael raises his hand to stop him, and he leans in close so that the snippy, depressed guy to his right can't hear his next words.

"And another Blue Hawaiian for him."

 

**& &&&&**

 

Ashton tells himself he likes the bar. That he doesn't mind working into the wee hours of the morning just to serve a bunch of horny, wasted adults. It's harder than anyone makes it out to be, the whole mixologist thing. It's a lot of work, but Ashton fucked himself over a couple years ago, and so now he's stuck here. And really, he doesn't  _hate_ it, because he's good at it. He's actually quite amazing at bar tending, unlike the whole music thing he tried before.

It's not just pouring alcohol into a cup and stirring, though, oh no. It's like, a science. A social one.

Besides knowing around a hundred different recipes off the top of his head, Ashton has perfected the art of Receiving The Optimal Tip. He's worked the system, he knows how to flirt with all the right girls - and guys, if they're into it - to get the best sum of cash slid over to him with a wink and seductive pull of alcohol through their straw.

He's in the middle of working a thirty-something year old woman as he mixes her a [Cosmopolitan](http://www.bolsademulher.com/sites/www.bolsademulher.com/files/receita/Como-preparar-o-drink-Cosmopolitan-2.jpg), knows his tip is going to be stellar because she's wearing diamonds almost everywhere and he's complimented her appearance in at least ten different ways already, when he sees this  _guy_.

At the risk of sounding harsh, the guy's not anything spectacular. Like, he's pretty, sure. But that's not why Ashton sees him. In fact, Ashton can't even place why he picks him out of the crowd, because he's not doing anything to make himself noticed. Except maybe being taller than every girl and almost every guy in the room.

The guy sits down next to some really sad looking brunette - the one that's been drinking all the Blue Hawaiians (don't laugh, Ashton, damn it) - and leans his head on mopey guy's shoulder affectionately.

Ashton's heart sinks a little at the idea that this guy might be taken, which is dumb, because he doesn't even know this boy and they haven't even made eye contact yet. He doesn't know what color his eyes are, but what with the adorable blonde quiff atop the guy's head, Ashton hopes they're blue, because that would make him prettier than he already is.

The woman clears her throat, impatient, and Ashton shakes himself out of his daze, handing the drink to her quickly. Annoyed, she grabs the glass and saunters off, leaving him, like, two dollars in a tip, and he frowns at the clump of bills.

He hears an adorable laugh then, and he melts a little inside when he turns around because  _of course_  that laugh (the best sound Ashton's heard in months) would belong to the blonde boy with the erect hair.

They make eye contact then, and  _god, yes_ , the eyes are blue, a piercing icy color, rivaling the sky, and Ashton thinks he might actually be drowning in them before he realizes the guy is calling him over to request a drink, and he attempts to stop staring.

He fails. Miserably.

The boy grins when Ashton approaches, and it's now that he notices a thin black lip ring contrasting against the soft paleness of his skin. Ashton wants to bite it, roll his tongue over it, and - shit, his mouth has been moving, but Ashton hasn't tuned into a word of it.

"I'm sorry, the music, I couldn't hear you." Ashton lies. "What did you say?"

The boy giggles again, leaning forward over the bar a little and Ashton bends in to meet him halfway, breathing in a waft of aftershave. "A [Screwdriver](http://enciklopediabg.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/screwdriverdring.jpg), please."

Ashton nods, a little breathless because the gorgeous guy's mouth is so close to his ear as he says the order. He doesn't know the last time he felt so dizzy being close to someone. Romance stopped being fun for Ashton when it turned into casual sex and unrequited feelings out on the road. He's missed the butterflies.

He makes the drink quickly, stealing glances at the boy while his mouth moves a mile a minute, talking to the mopey guy who isn't partaking in the conversation a whole lot. Ashton distantly wonders how someone could ignore someone as cute as this guy.

Setting the drink down in front of the blonde, lanky boy, Ashton winks before turning to walk to another customer. He feels a hand touch his bicep, and he looks over his shoulder to see the boy holding a few dollars in his hand and a confused look on his face.

"I...I need to pay for it, yeah?" He asks.

Ashton shakes his head, winking again. "Nah, I've got this one for ya."

The blue eyes widen, and a subtle frown takes over his adorable face. "Why?"

Ashton shrugs, grabbing an empty glass from the counter and sliding it over to another bartender. "Because you're cute."

 

**/////**

 

Calum is an absolute failure. 

Okay, that's not true. Technically, this is the first thing he's ever failed at in his life, but that realization only solidifies the sinking feeling that he's a miserable loser. Like, who flunks an entire semester of college? Calum, that's who.

It doesn't help his ego any that it was such an easy schedule, that any idiot probably could've passed it effortlessly. His roommate, Luke, did. Not that Luke's an idiot, just...the point is, Luke actually studied instead of seeking out the party every weekend like Calum.

He groans again, rubbing his temples and staring intently at the new drink the bartender placed in front of him nearly ten minutes ago now. Nobody told him who it was from, but considering it's a duplicate Blue Hawaiian as he's been drinking all night, it's probably from someone that's been paying close attention to him.

Luke hasn't shut up about his free Screwdriver for several minutes, making comments every now and then about how the bartender apparently thinks he's cute enough to deserve free alcohol. It's sort of adorable, because Luke never gets excited about things other than the occasional meme or piece of information he gets stuck on after a particularly interesting day of class.

But Calum's not in the mood for adorable. He's in the mood to  _sulk_. And he's going to do just that, as soon as he figures out where this fucking  _drink_  has appeared from.

The bartender that handed him the drink (and gave Luke the free one) walks by, and Calum sticks out his hand, successfully stopping him.

"Hey, hey, sorry to bother you. I just." Calum falters, looking down at the dark blue beverage. He motions to it somewhat helplessly, then sinks his shoulders like the bartender will just understand what he's trying to say. He doesn't, though, so Calum continues. "Who sent this?"

The bartender smiles - wow, holy dimples, man, dang - and nods behind Calum. He's obviously trying to be discreet, as though to not call the person out directly, or at least not be noticed pointing them out to Calum. That makes him feel more uneasy than he already is due to the day's events, because it means the purchaser of the drink is probably still watching him.

Calum turns around anyway, and the only person he recognizes is the stupidly cute boy with the flamboyant red hair, who looks away bashfully as soon as their eyes meet. And then it's just so obvious, Calum has to laugh. He turns back to the bar, tugging the Blue Hawaiian closer to himself and taking a sip of it.

The red haired guy he can do. Well, not, like, literally  _do_ , but...whatever. Calum will accept the drink from him. Their brief encounter was civil enough, so he figures it's safe. Besides, Luke is right here, he'll keep an eye on Calum. He turns to tell Luke to make sure the drink doesn't kill him, but his best friend has apparently disappeared.

Briefly, Calum wonders where a six foot, lanky noodle could've run off to in the bar, but then his train of thought is derailed because his straw makes a horrible slurping noise. He notices then that he must have  _slammed_ the drink, because it's empty too fast. Calum wants another, but he doesn't order one.

Instead, he catches the honey haired, hazel eyed bartender everyone's been gushing about on the other end of the counter, asks him for a second of his time. The bartender nods, leaning in close and allowing Calum to make a request.

"The guy that sent me this. Can you get him another of whatever he's having? On my tab?" Calum asks, and he sort of maims himself because he's supposed to be wallowing in his sorrows over what an idiot he is, why is he buying drinks for cute boys with red hair?

The bartender just winks at Calum, grabbing a bottle of bourbon and a glass from under the counter. Calum watches in fascination as he flips the ingredients through his fingers, finds himself wondering if maybe he should take up moonlighting, because it looks  _really fucking cool_.

When the drink is finished, the bartender calls over a waitress, instructing her on who to give it to before she nods excitedly and bounces off. He gives a subtle fist bump to Calum, who's started fiddling with the umbrella in his drink since he'd finished it too quickly.

He zones out again, doesn't come back down to Earth until someone is plopping down in the seat next to him. When he looks, it's the red haired boy, smiling sheepishly and holding the drink Calum ordered him. He's not sure what it is, because he didn't pay close enough attention to the ingredients in it besides the bourbon. Just knowing the bourbon is in it, though, Calum respects him, because pounding that back isn't easy. Either that, or Calum feels sorry for him, because bourbon is also the last resort of someone with a shattered heart.

"Thanks for the drink," he says, and Calum nods.

"You too."

They're quiet for a minute, and then they both go to speak at the same time. Humiliated, a blush spreads up Calum's neck, and he motions for the guy to go first.

"I was gonna say my name, but it's like...I sort of forgot where I was for a second, looking at you." He says, biting his lip and taking a sip of his drink. The guy shivers slightly as it goes down, and Calum concludes he's drinking to forget, not because he likes it.

Calum smiles genuinely at him for the first time all night. "It's okay, I get it. I'm Calum," he introduces himself, sticking out his hand, and the boy takes it firmly in his own.

"Michael," he replies, and Calum thinks that yeah, that name is perfect on the boy. Sounds just right matched up against his face.

"What brings you here, Michael?" Calum asks, and sort of wants to die immediately afterwards, because did he really just dish out an awkward pick up line? He may as well have straight up dropped the  _so, come here often?_ bomb. 

Michael doesn't make fun of him, though, just awkwardly shifts in his seat. Calum wonders if he's struck a nerve. Surprisingly, he finds himself feeling bad if he has.

"My friends are trying to get me back in the dating scene, I think. Recent breakup." Michael answers quietly, then shifts the focus from him as quickly as possible. "What about you?"

Calum nods, gripping the stem of his empty glass, just because it's there. "I flunked all my finals. Probably gonna get my scholarship pulled, because I'm a total loser."

Michael's emerald eyes do this  _thing_ , and Calum wishes he could place the emotion. Empathy, maybe? Sympathy, more likely. Or, something deeper, that Calum can't quite explain.

"So?" Michael asks, and Calum looks at him with furrowed eyebrows because  _um, I need an education, duh_? He must read the annoyance in Calum's eyes, because Michael quickly backtracks. "No, no, I mean, like. Sure, school is important. I'm sorry you failed. But, uh, so what if you're a loser? It's okay to be a loser, it just depends on how good you are at it or how much pride you've got being one."

Calum's eyes widen slightly, and he feels this overwhelming sense of warmth and adoration flutter across his belly. Which is probably stupid, and possibly just the rum finally kicking in. He doesn't care enough to read into it, though, just likes the feeling and really wants it to stay.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you're any less of a person just for slipping up a little." Michael shrugs.

Suddenly, he wants to kiss Michael, but he doesn't. Just smiles, damning the emotions bubbling up inside of him.

However, he does say: "I've only just met you. So how the fuck do you know exactly what to say to make me feel better?"

 

**~~~~~**

 

Luke shouldn't even be here, honestly. He shouldn't be in this rather grungy bathroom at some Los Angeles bar, because it's not really his scene at all. He feels awkward in his skinny jeans and flannel shirt, because everyone else out on the dance floor is in button ups and nice pants.

It's just that Luke is  _such_ a good friend. His best friend has been moping all day since he saw his final grades (failing scores), and Calum asked Luke to come be supportive as he drank away his sorrows.

Sighing, Luke takes the last sip of his Screwdriver, examining the empty glass before setting it on the ledge of the sink in front of him. He stares at it, thinking back to when the (incredibly hot) bartender gave it to him.  _Because you're cute_ , he'd said in his justification for giving it to Luke for free.

Luke still can't believe that. He looks up into the mirror - which is covered in this layer of dirt that fogs his reflection a bit - and takes in his appearance, running a hand through his blonde hair and rolling his lip ring with his tongue.

Cute doesn't seem like him, he doesn't think. Awkward, or maybe even bearable seem like better adjectives. Regardless, Luke feels this little skip in the beats of his heart, which is a totally new sensation. If he's honest, he can't remember the last time something gave his heart the "pitter patter" everyone's always talking about.

All of his friends have felt it, the quickening of your heart rate and shallowing of your breathing when you look at someone special. They've all felt the spark, like something  _real_ is about to form right in front of them.

Everyone except for Luke. Luke doesn't think he's ever felt anything like that, until now.

 _Ridiculous_ , Luke tells himself, shaking his head and allowing a sarcastic laugh to force its way out of his mouth. He grabs his empty glass, exiting the bathroom and getting hit by a wall of sound.

He searches for Calum back at the counter, but when he locates the boy, he's not alone. There's someone sitting next to him, a guy with fluorescent red hair and pouty lips and an eyebrow piercing. He's looking at Calum in this  _way_ , like he can't get enough of what the guy is saying, and Luke feels an overwhelming fondness watching the two of them together. They look so natural, leaning against the counter but also leaning  _toward_ each other, sucked into the others' orbit.

He can't go back over there, not now. Calum would hate him if he ruined a potential date with his awkward third wheeling. Which is inevitable, unavoidable.

So Luke ventures over to the other side of the bar, taking an empty seat and placing his glass down in front of him. It feels like no more than a few seconds go by before one of the bartenders is in front of him, picking it up. When Luke looks up to thank them, though, he finds the gorgeous, hazel-eyed  _man_ that called him  _cute_.

"Care for another?" He asks, and it's then that Luke realizes he's just been  _staring_ at this guy for several seconds without saying anything. 

Luke coughs, nodding. "Yeah. But I think I'll go ahead and buy it myself this time."

The man raises his eyebrows, and he looks almost horrified. "I...shit, I'm sorry if I was out of line earlier. I shouldn't have just assumed...like, how am I supposed to know if you even  _like_ guys, I...yeah, I'm sorry. No more buying you drinks."

Luke giggles, shaking his head. Once he's composed himself, he leans forward on his elbows. "What's your name?"

"Ashton," he says, flipping his honey colored hair out of his eyes as he reaches for a bottle of vodka, preparing to mix Luke's drink.

Luke offers him a soft smile. "Well,  _Ashton_ , I happen to just like  _people_. So, no worries there."

Ashton smirks, and Luke can feel the confidence radiating off of him as he leans on the counter, his face just inches away from Luke's. "Yeah? Well, in that case, am I still allowed to buy you drinks?"

Luke clears his throat, fighting to look away but finding himself trapped in Ashton's inviting gaze. He feels strangely at home there, blue drowning in hazel.

"Yes," he squeaks out, and Ashton's smile only widens, dimples breaking out across his cheeks. Luke wants to reach out and touch each of them. (He doesn't.)

"Great," Ashton says, pushing himself back and leaving Luke scrambling for his eyes again, his warmth. "This one's on me again, then."

"I can't just let you buy me drinks all night." Luke tells him, fiddling with a napkin he's found on the counter.

Ashton sets down the completed Screwdriver, chuckling. "Why not? You just said I could."

Luke swallows dryly, heart rate picking up, and Luke thinks this has got to be it,  _this_ is the pitter patter everyone's always talking about. "I just. Don't you have more interesting things to spend your money on?"

Ashton eyes flicker, slipping a shade darker, and he leans forward again, resting on his toned forearms as he stares directly into Luke's eyes. "Doubtful. You're the most interesting thing I've had come into my life in months, beautiful."

And boy, if Luke wasn't feeling the pitter patter before, he's definitely feeling it now.

 

*********

 

Michael walks back to Alex and Jack's table when Calum's friend comes back over, screeching about how the bartender called him beautiful. No one had really payed any mind, except then he was mentioning something called a pitter patter, and Calum's attention was completely drawn away from Michael, gushing on instead about how happy he was for his friend (Luke, was it?).

He's not sure what's so important about this "pitter patter" business, but it clearly holds some significance to the two of them, so Michael finds himself leaving and sitting back down in his seat between Alex and Jack instead. He takes a pointed sip of his third cocktail of the evening, courtesy of Calum, and tries not to stare longingly at the adorable boy across the room.

"Dude, you're pining so hard for this guy it's almost painful," Jack laughs, bumping his shoulder into Michael's.

Alex nods, grabbing his drink from off the table and taking a small slurp of it. "Did you get his name?"

Michael fights a smile, but loses the battle, lips spreading apart and an unwelcome blush heats his cheeks. "Calum. His name's Calum."

" _Calum_ ," Jack imitates, rolling his eyes but smirking nonetheless. "Did you get his number or what? You two gonna hook up?" He wiggles his eyebrows at Michael, who just spits out a laugh and shoves him away.

"Shut up, it's not about hooking up with him. He's just nice to talk to. He makes me feel safe, I don't know." Michael mumbles the words, because he knows how strange they are. A boy he's only just met shouldn't make him feel  _secure._ And it's not like Calum's unattractive. In fact, he's stunningly gorgeous, but Michael doesn't think he has it in him to hook up with anyone meaninglessly. Even if it  _has_ been two months since Harry left him.

Alex sighs, rubbing Michael's shoulder. "I hear you, but, like, we're at a  _bar_. So just...don't get too attached to the guy. He's probably only in it for a one night stand."

Michael furrows his eyebrows, looking back over to where Calum and Luke are seated. Calum looks so genuine, hand resting on Luke's knee as he nods excitedly, listening intently to whatever his friend is saying. It gives Michael a warm feeling, because even though Alex's words make sense and should be true, he just knows they're not. Calum isn't in it for anything. He's not here for anyone. He's here because he felt like a failure, and Michael has managed to convince him that's not the case.

But then, Jack quietly adds, "Mikey, don't go kissing strangers and pretending that it's him."

Michael freezes up at the indirect mention of his ex, and he almost drops his drink. It feels as though the whole bar has gone quiet, like they're the only three people in the place. He turns to Jack, who isn't looking at him. He's looking down at his beer, twirling the glass and watching the amber liquid swim in it. 

"What the fuck, Jack." Michael chokes out softly, feeling utterly betrayed. "You told me to come in here and do this, you told me to try and  _hook up with someone_."

Jack shakes his head. "I know what I said. But I didn't mean to come in here and start crushing on some guy just because he's easy to talk to. The way you're looking at Calum, it's the same way you used to look at Harry. And I just...Mike, we can't watch you go through the same thing all over again."

Michael turns to Alex, who's smiling sadly at him, and Michael feels that overwhelming feeling of annoyance, because everyone's looking at him like they can tell his heart is broken.

He stands up then, storming off to the only person in the whole place that  _isn't_ looking at him that way. To Calum.

He plops down beside the boy, who jumps in surprise, as does Luke. "Michael!" Calum squeaks, shocked.

Michael feels his voice cracking, trying to avoid tears as he asks, "Can I talk to you?"

Calum nods immediately, turning to Luke and mumbling something to the boy. The blonde nods, giving Michael a sympathetic look before standing up and walking off. Once he's gone, Calum turns back around, folding his hands in his lap.

His eyebrows are furrowed, a worried look flickering in his chocolate colored eyes. His plump lips are set in a heavy frown, and Michael feels guilty for taking away his wonderful smile.

"What's wrong, Michael? Are you alright?" He asks. He looks like he wants to reach out and touch Michael in some way, but he makes no move to do so.

Michael shakes his head, sighing as he leans into his hands. "Fuck, this is so embarrassing, I'm sorry. I haven't done this in  _so long_."

Calum inches forward, and the movement brings Michael's eyes back up to his face. He still looks worried, and it almost makes Michael feel worse, more embarrassed.

"Done what?"

Michael sighs, taking a small sip of his drink. "This. The whole 'flirt with the cute boy in the bar' thing. I just got out of a relationship, one that I thought was, y'know,  _the one_. And it's like, I sort of feel like I'm drowning all the time because of it, but when I'm sitting next to you, it feels like I can breathe again. I know that's weird, but it's -"

Calum cuts him off with a finger to his lips and a small smile. Michael's breath catches at the touch, his skin feeling on fire where Calum's fingertip is pressed to him. "You really think I'm cute?"

The red haired boy laughs, a feeling akin to relief washing over his body, and Calum offers a smirk in return. "Yeah, Cal. You're very cute."

Calum pulls away then, pulling a napkin from the counter and grabbing a pen that's sat next to one of the multiple cash registers. He scribbles something down on the napkin, then hands it to Michael, a nervous smile on his face.

Michael looks down at it, grinning when he sees Calum's phone number scrawled out on it. Below the number, in adorable chicken scratch handwriting, are the words: 'for when you're drowning x'. 

He looks up at Calum, who's blushing a bit, and opens his mouth to thank him. But before he can say anything, Calum is leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to Michael's cheek.

Michael finds himself leaning into it, turning his head slightly so that the kiss lingers a bit longer when Calum starts pulling away.

"Whoever stopped loving you back is a damn fool, Mikey." He whispers against Michael's pale skin.

 

**& &&&&**

 

Ashton is in the middle of restocking bottles when he sees the boy again, the one who's name he still stupidly hasn't asked, the one with the blonde hair and captivating blue eyes. He's walking around somewhat aimlessly, people watching, and his glass is dangerously close to empty.

He curses himself again for not asking the blonde's name earlier, because now he's trying to flag down the boy, practically  _praying_ for him to spare a glance over so that their eyes might meet again.

Ashton Irwin is pining so fucking hard. And he's so painfully aware of it, he almost wants to die.

Miraculously, the blonde starts making his way over to the bar, taking a seat and reaching for a small specials menu, eyes scrolling across the page as he reads the foods listed on it. Ashton swoops in then, feeling somewhat like a stalker, but he's not about to let him get away again.

"Hey again," Ashton says, smirking when the boy jumps a little at the sudden voice.

The boy chuckles breathlessly, and it's probably one of the best sounds Ashton has ever been met with. "Hey," he replies.

"So, I've decided something." Ashton declares, crossing his arms and looking down at the lanky boy.

He raises an eyebrow, smiling as he traces his thumb along the rim of his glass. "Oh? And what's that?"

"If you're gonna keep coming 'round to my side of the bar, and if I'm gonna keep buying you drinks, I think I deserve to know your name." Ashton smiles, grabbing a bottle of vodka and shaking it gently, quirking an eyebrow at the boy as though to ask if he'd like a refill.

The blonde boy nods, pushing the empty cup over to Ashton. He's blushing, and the adorable reaction makes Ashton's stomach do this little flip.

"I'm Luke." He says, smiling softly, eyes looking down to his feet. Ashton feels a pang of disappointment, because he was really enjoying looking at the lovely color of Luke's eyes.

"Luke. Lucas. Means light, doesn't it?" Ashton winks, and Luke throws his head back in laughter.

"That's so corny, how the hell did you know that?" Luke asks, rolling up the sleeves on his flannel. His eyes don't look accusing or teasing, they just look fascinated, like everything coming out of Ashton's mouth is worthy of being held on to, treasured. It makes Ashton's stomach roll again, the way Luke looks at him, because no one's ever looked at him in  _remotely_ a similar way.

"Well," Ashton says, setting down a fresh drink in front of Luke. He leans down, resting on his elbows and noting the way Luke's breath hitches when he does so. "Believe it or not, I took some college courses. And truthfully, I  _did_ pay a lot of attention in my world history classes."

Luke giggles again, resuming the act of tracing his fingers along the brim of his glass. Ashton figures it must be something the boy does when he's nervous. "So is this bar tending thing just, like, part time, then?"

Ashton bites his lip, hesitating with an answer, and he must look offended or awkward, because Luke's eyes widen and he's suddenly apologizing for whatever it is he thinks he's done wrong.

"Luke, it's fine," Ashton chuckles. "It's not really part time. I mean, I'm good at the whole mixology thing, and it's not what I expected to be doing at my age, but I don't hate it."

Luke's humiliation slowly subsides, and the look of unconditional admiration comes back to his eyes. "What  _did_ you expect to be doing at your age, then?"

Ashton sighs, running a hand through his hair. He never talks about his music, the way his attempt at fame and brief moments of success crashed and burned. But Luke seems so inviting, staring into Ashton's eyes like he could say he kicked a puppy and would still be forgiven by the boy.

"Honestly, I expected to be playing shows. To be up on a stage, just me and a couple of people doing the whole music thing. And I actually did it for awhile, but clearly it didn't work out all that well." Ashton shrugs, searching Luke's face and wondering what he's thinking in the moments of silence that follow his words.

Luke smiles, which Ashton realizes he wasn't expecting, for some reason. Maybe he's worried Luke will think he's some kind of idiot, trying to make it in the music industry.

But Luke doesn't seem to think anything along those lines. "What went wrong?"

Ashton tenses then, and he goes to back away, but then Luke is reaching out, grasping his shoulder and silently asking him not to leave. It makes Ashton's heart stutter step, and he feels an urge to press his lips to Luke's. He refrains, however.

"I fell in love with someone in the band, and it went to shit." He says solemnly, and Luke's eyes widen at the sincerity of the words. "Didn't love me as much as they pretended to, I guess."

"Shit, Ash, I. I'm sorry, I didn't know." Luke's voice is low, and he gently removes his hand as though he thinks he's scalded Ashton somehow.

Ashton longs for the touch again, but instead of chasing it, he just stays still. "It's okay, it was a long time ago. Time heals all, and whatnot." He smiles halfheartedly, and Luke must be able to tell, because he frowns and shakes his head.

"I shouldn't have brought it up." Luke mutters, biting his lip, the ring trapped between his teeth. Ashton watches, fascinated.

"You couldn't have known, Luke, it's fine. Besides, I make a much better washed up bartender than I do a drummer. So there's that," Ashton jokes, and the comic relief brings a smile to Luke's face.

"I don't think you're washed up," Luke laughs.

Ashton pushes himself up off the ledge of the counter, grabbing a piece of paper and writing down his phone number. He hands it to Luke, smirking when the boy's face reddens upon reading it.

"Let's hang out on my break?" Ashton offers, and Luke nods eagerly, grabbing the pen from Ashton and writing his own number down on the older boy's forearm.

"Only if you bring me food," Luke answers.

 

**/////**

 

Calum can't believe he actually gave Michael his phone number. He's concluded that was a big mistake. Huge. Monumental. Not because he doesn't like Michael, because that's quite the contrary. He thinks Michael's sort of wonderful.

It's because of all these damn  _selfies_.

His phone beeps again, and Calum spins around in his seat, glaring at the red haired boy that's giggling furiously from his table across the room. Sighing, Calum unlocks his phone, hesitantly clicking open he and Michael's messages.

This one is a simple duck face, and Calum rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. He fights a laugh at the series of chicken emojis that follow the photo.

Then, a text.

> **FROM: Michael ( _11:18 PM_ )**
> 
> I see u trying not to laugh, Cal, and that's not very punk rock.
> 
> **FROM: Michael ( _11:19 PM_ )**
> 
> I'm a comedic genius, why are you fighting it?

Calum snorts, retaliating with his own selfie. He hopes it's subtle when he takes it, because nothing is more embarrassing than being caught in the act of taking pictures of yourself (especially  _alone_ ). He gives the camera his middle finger, even adding a pout for effect. After adding a couple emojis (the princess and painted nails), he sends off the text, patiently waiting for Michael's reply.

Unnaturally quickly, there's a response, and Calum smiles when he reads it.

> **FROM:**  M **ichael ( _11:22 PM_ )**
> 
> Why are you so cute, even when you're being mean to me?

Calum smirks, typing out a quick reply.

> **TO: Michael ( _11:22 PM_ )**
> 
> _I'm not being mean. But you're right, I AM pretty cute._

Ten seconds later, a heart emoji pops up into the conversation, and Calum smiles at it, before sliding his phone off to the side.

He sees Luke approaching with this shit eating grin on his face, and Calum scoots over to make room for his friend. The blonde plops down hard, quickly turning to Calum and taking off into this rant at about a hundred miles per hour.

Frantically, Calum waves his hands, slowing the younger boy down, and it's only then that Luke actually  _breathes_ , inhaling deeply before smiling all over again.

"Guess what?" Luke gushes, leaning forward and all but erupting with excitement.

"What?" Calum laughs, resting his side against the ledge of the counter. It's somewhat uncomfortable, but it keeps him upright, which is the only real goal he had with getting into the position.

Luke squeaks, literally fucking  _squeaks_ , and Calum has to bite his cheeks so hard he draws blood to keep from laughing at the boy.

"I talked to Ashton again. I think...I think he really likes me, Cal," Luke says, all smiles and eyes full of hope. Calum falters a little, the overprotective big brother instinct he's developed around Luke kicking in.

"Oh? That's great," Calum mumbles, looking around the bar for the mentioned bartender, but he's nowhere to be found.

Luke frowns, lifting his hand and snapping his fingers right in Calum's face. The older boy's eyes widen, and he furrows his eyebrows at Luke.

"What?" He asks.

"Why do you seem so disinterested now? You were all over this conversation before I mentioned Ash." Luke pouts, and Calum sighs, because he can understand where Luke is coming from. Sweet, innocent Luke.

The thing is, Luke's  _too_ sweet and innocent. He has a tendency to misread situations, miscalculate them. He trusts so quickly, shares overly personal information with strangers that don't care, and he's never dated anyone that wasn't associated with his parents or their independent wealth. Like, Calum sort of doubts that this random bartender from a hole in the wall nightclub in Los Angeles will know anything about Luke's background, but even if he did, there's no way Luke would pick up on himself being used. Hasn't picked up on it in the past.

"I'm not...Luke, I just think you shouldn't read into it too much. It's probably just for tips." Calum speaks lowly, but Luke is reeling back from him anyway, shaking his head in protest before Calum has even finished his sentence.

"No, no, you're wrong." Luke keeps shaking his head, and his hand wraps firmly around the edge of the counter. Probably just for something to hold onto, so he doesn't punch Calum in the jaw.

The older boy sighs, reaching over and resting a hand on his best friend's shoulder. He chooses to ignore the way he fidgets under the touch, like he wishes Calum hadn't put his hands anywhere near him. "Luke, you  _know_  why I'm saying this. You do."

Luke closes his eyes, and Calum can see his jaw tighten. "Cal, stop it."

"I can't let you fall for someone that's gonna use you, Luke. He's just a guy at a bar, do you really think he's gonna care tomorrow morning?" Calum tries not to sound cruel, but then Luke has these tears welling up in his eyes, and he feels like absolute shit.

Luke swivels his head, glaring at Calum and if looks could kill, Calum would be fucking  _dead_. "Do you?!" He practically yells, and a few people send them irritated looks. _  
_

Calum doesn't even acknowledge the staring, though, because he can't look away from Luke. He's angry, hurt, and no longer sweet, innocent Luke. It's off putting, but Calum feels a weird sense of pride because Luke  _never_ gets fired up about anything. He just floats through his life, he never fights back like this.

After the initial fondness he feels passes, though, Calum's  _pissed_. "Excuse me?"

Luke scoffs, knuckles going white the harder he grips the counter. "Your fucking boy toy of the evening, the fire engine over there. Do you think  _he's_ gonna care in the morning, Cal?"

He knows Luke has a point, he does. He knows that what he said earlier was out of line and entirely hypocritical, but he's feeling exposed today to begin with, so this added insult to injury sends him over the edge, has him clenching his fists.

"You know what? No, I don't. I don't think he'll give a shit, Luke, but it's different because neither will I." He's lying. He's lying straight out of his ass, and Luke can probably tell, but he doesn't say anything. Calum absolutely thinks Michael will care in the morning, and so will Calum, though he hadn't even decided until that moment that he really hopes Michael will take him home.

"Luke, you expect everyone to care. And maybe this guy Ashton  _does_ like you, but he doesn't love anyone yet, and I can't let you go into this thinking that he does, okay?" Calum sighs, exhausted, and he runs his fingers through his hair.

He closes his eyes, and it's quiet between them for several agonizingly slow seconds. They never fight like this, not ever, and it's taking all Calum has not to cry.

Then, there's a weight on his shoulder and strands of hair tickling his neck, and Calum smiles, looking down to where Luke has rested his head against the older boy. "M'sorry, Calum, you're right."

Calum exhales slowly, curling his face into Luke's hair and closing his eyes again. "No, I'm sorry. I was way out of line."

"Maybe," Luke shrugs, "but you're still right. I just...he makes my heart do this  _thing_ , Cal, and it's so different from anything I've ever felt." He pulls out a paper then, setting it on the counter, and Calum quickly scans the writing on it. It's Ashton's number, followed by his name, and an  _xo_. Calum chuckles, shaking his shoulder to remove Luke from it. The boy groans in protest, but pulls his head up anyway.

"You got his number?" Calum asks, winking. His phone buzzes on the counter, and he knows it's probably Michael, but he refrains from huddling it to his chest and reading the text like a schoolgirl.

Luke nods proudly. "I'm gonna hang out with him on his break. Which, actually, should be soon. I'll be careful, I promise."

Calum smiles, shoulder bumping his best friend. He picks up his phone, opening the text from Michael and laughing when he sees it's a picture taken from across the room of Luke snuggled up to Calum.

> **FROM: Michael ( _11_** _**:31 PM**  _ **)**
> 
> save some for me

Calum rolls his eyes, looking back over to Luke, who's giving him a wide grin. His eyes quickly widen, and he shoves his phone back in his pocket. "What?" He asks, probably a bit too defensive. 

Luke just snorts out a laugh. "You like the redhead."

Calum knows he's blushing, but he doesn't really do much to fight it. "Michael. He has a name," he teases.

Luke rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You wanna go home with this  _Michael_ , don't you?"

Calum almost stops breathing, because yeah, he'd like that very,  _very_  much. He'd like to kiss him, and cuddle him even more than he cuddled Luke. He'd like to wake up next to him in the haze of morning and he'd like for him to stay for breakfast.

"Maybe," Calum smiles. "A strong, definite,  _maybe_."

 

**~~~~~**

 

It's a bit colder outside than Luke would like. But this is where Ashton said to meet him in the text he sent, behind the bar on the patio where employees take their breaks. There's a couple of tables and chairs, so Luke picks a random one, sitting down and wrapping his flannel tighter around him. He should've brought a jacket.

He can hear music from the bar, muffled greatly due to the thick walls. He can distantly hear cars swooshing by on the roads, occasional honks and a couple of tires peeling out.  _Los Angeles_ , Luke thinks, rolling his eyes.

Just as he's settling in, swaying along to the muffled beat, the music turns unbearably loud, and Luke realizes it's because the back door has swung open, the heavy metal of it creaking in the cold air. Startled, Luke jumps a bit, but relaxes when he sees it's only Ashton. His curls flop in the light breeze, and Luke has to repress a giggle.

The older boy is carrying two platters, covered by silver lids that stack awkwardly on top of one another. He sways a little, attempting to balance the dishes as he struggles to keep the door open long enough to pass through it.

He manages to do it with some success, eyes lighting up when they land on Luke's (at least, Luke would like to think he saw them light up). Ashton only stumbles twice on his way to the table, and because Luke's such a great person, he pretends he didn't see either of the missteps happen.

"Hey, cutie," Ashton says when he sits down across from Luke, placing the two plates between them. Removing the lids, he reveals a pile of french fries and buffalo wings. Luke laughs, but reaches out for a fry anyway, trying not to blush at the new nickname Ashton has apparently assigned him.

"I wasn't expecting  _gourmet_ when I asked you to bring me food," Luke teases, popping the fry in his mouth and taking in Ashton's appearance for the first time since the boy came outside.

He's wearing the same jeans as before - just black skinnies - but now he's got a leather jacket on, worn out on the shoulders and elbows like he's had it for awhile. In addition, he's got a black bandana with tiny white embroidery wrapped around his messy curls, and he looks downright  _edible_. Luke prays the heartbeat that's so loud in his eardrums isn't audible to the boy across from him.

Ashton rolls his eyes. "Hey now, I did the best I could. Kitchen was closed, so I had to pull major strings for that." His voice is lighthearted and teasing, but Luke thanks him solemnly for the food anyway, because he really  _is_ starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls, and they both laugh.

"So what do you do, Luke?" Ashton asks, grabbing a wing and dipping it in some of the dressing that came with the dish.

Luke shrugs. "Just school. I haven't really decided on a career or anything yet, though, so please don't ask." He chuckles a little to show he's only half kidding, but Ashton doesn't smile. Luke's sort of grateful that the boy can tell he doesn't want to talk about it. "What about you? You said you took some college courses?"

Ashton leans back in his chair nonchalantly, arms extending to rest behind his head and Luke has to force himself not to stare at the delectable stripe of skin revealed when the movement causes his shirt to ride up. "Yeah, I tried it out for like, a year. Not my thing, apparently."

Luke just nods along, eyes blank, because that's all he can really muster at this point. To occupy himself, he reaches for another handful of fries.

"Regardless of how long it lasted or whatever feelings got in the way, the band was still the greatest thing I've ever done." He sits back up, furrowing his eyebrows and pausing before shaking his head. "No, I take that back. Not the band. The band was sort of shit. The  _music_  was the greatest thing I've ever done. I wouldn't trade those years for anything."

The way Ashton speaks makes him seem so experienced, especially now that he's mentioned he spent  _years_ on the road with his band. Luke vaguely wonders how old Ashton actually is, but he shakes the thoughts from his head when he decides he doesn't really want to know. Not tonight, if ever. He sort of wishes he had his drink with him, so he could chug it down. But security wouldn't let him leave with it, and yeah, Luke understands that. It sucks, but he wasn't willing to sacrifice dinner with Ashton just to bring a glass of liquid confidence outside. 

Another thing Luke finds himself wondering is how Ashton could just  _do that_. Like, the whole touring thing. Just up and leaving cities after spending one night in them, not to mention the whole initial breaking out of the hometown struggle. It's impressive, even awe-inspiring to Luke.

"I wish I was brave enough to do that. Not necessarily a band, because that's not something I see myself doing. But, I don't know. I wish I had the guts to do something crazy like you, Ash." Luke sighs, and he hopes it doesn't sound as dreamy as it felt coming out of his mouth.

Ashton shakes his head firmly. "No, you don't." The words are hard, like a warning, a caution.

"Yes, I  _do_." Luke disagrees, biting his lip. "I've never done anything nuts, never thrown caution to the wind." He sighs, flicking an uneaten fry back onto the pile. It's obvious the food isn't so much the center of attention anymore, so Ashton doesn't say anything about it. "It's how I ended up here."

And whoa. Luke's potentially opened a whole new can of worms and a lot more emotions than necessary with those words, and he hopes Ashton will overlook them.

He doesn't, of course, because that would be too easy.

"How do you mean?" He asks.

Luke shakes his head. "Nothing."

Ashton mirrors the movement, scooting his chair around the table so they're closer together. The metal of the chair scrapes loudly against the concrete, and it sounds so out of place in the easy silence.

As soon as Ashton's body is next to his, Luke's heart rate does its little stutter, and he has to physically remind himself of that whole breathing thing. It's still an odd feeling, the "pitter patter" Ashton gives him, because Luke has never felt it before. Not with any of the guys or girls he's dated. Just this incredibly hot man with honey colored hair and the brightest grin for miles, probably.

"Tell me." Ashton says simply, but it runs so much deeper for Luke, much warmer. And he finds himself unable to say no, maybe even if he'd  _wanted_ to say no.

"I don't know. Just the whole college thing." Luke tells him, shrugging and averting his eyes to look anywhere but at Ashton. If he really takes in his closeness, Luke will probably do something mortifying, like compliment his very existence.

Ashton doesn't give him much of a choice, though, tucking his thumb underneath Luke's chin and tugging gently, so that Luke's face is inches away from Ashton's. He holds his breath, trying to keep from blushing when Ashton takes in all the details of his features.

"Do you want to do it?"

It takes Luke a few seconds to respond (mostly because he was trying to decipher whether that meant, like,  _it_ , but then mentally slapping himself because Ashton is a guy easily in his mid twenties, he would  _not_ say  _do it_  instead of  _fuck_ ).

"I guess. I mean, my folks are paying for everything and they have me in this great science degree program - " Luke starts, cut off by a deep scoff from Ashton. Which, rude.

But then he speaks, and it's actually not rude.

"No, no, Luke. I asked if  _you_ wanted to do it, not if your parents and their high expectations wanted you to do it." Ashton isn't condescending, but Luke finds himself reevaluating almost his entire life because of the tone anyway.

And maybe he's fallen victim to the pitter patter, or maybe Ashton just has a valid point, but either way, Luke says, "No. I fucking don't, Ash. I don't." _  
_

His eyes feel like they're burning with unreleased tears of anger, but they're going to stay unreleased. He can't cry in front of this embodiment of sunshine, he can't.

Ashton only smiles, lips spreading wide and baring pearly teeth. "Admitting unhappiness is the first step in letting loose, Luke. You're halfway to where you want to be."

Luke really wants to lean in and kiss him in that moment.

Ashton does it instead.

 

*********

 

Michael has managed to procure a booth for Calum, Luke, Alex, and Jack, which, according to Calum and Luke, is a big deal in this bar. A booth has to do with some sort of social order in the nightclub scene, shows you have some sort of hierarchy, but Michael's having a hard time keeping up when they describe the system to him. Mostly because when Calum and Luke are together, they talk so quickly, with little to no breaks for air in between words. It's amusing, but also very tiring.

His spot in the booth faces the entrance to the bar, so he can see everyone coming in and out. It's only because he can't keep up with the boys he's sitting with (and neither can Alex and Jack, judging by their wide eyes and firm grips on their drinks) that Michael shifts his attention to the doorway, and it's only because of this shifted attention that he sees the last face he ever expected to see enter the bar.

"Holy shit," Michael mutters accidentally, and everyone at the booth stops talking, looking over at him in confusion. Alex and Jack are sitting to his right (Calum and Luke across from them), so they follow his eyes, emitting similar outbursts when they see what Michael's staring at.

"What?" Luke asks, spinning around in his seat, eyebrows furrowed. He doesn't show any signs of realization, though, and he wouldn't. Nobody but Michael, Alex, and Jack would.

Michael releases a shaky breath. "It's him."

Calum's eyebrow raises in confusion for half a second, before his expression spreads into one of understanding. "Oh, Mikey..."

Michael's voice sounds desperate and croaky when he speaks, turning to his best friends with worried eyes. "Why the  _fuck_ would he be here?"

Alex shakes his head, reaching up and pulling Michael's head down to his shoulder. He pets the red hair soothingly, but it doesn't make Michael feel any better. Nothing probably could, because  _Harry_ fucking  _Styles_ has just entered the same room as Michael for the first time in two months. Since the breakup.

"I don't know, buddy." Jack says quietly.

Luke still looks quite frustrated, huffing out a pathetic little breath before turning to Calum. He's got this expression that all too clearly means he wants an explanation.

"His ex." Calum tells him simply, and then Luke's eyes widen, biting his lip and sinking down into his seat with a soft 'oh'.

Alex shrugs, continuing his comforting gesture on Michael's hair. "Mikey, I don't know what to tell you. We can't just ask him to leave, it's a public venue."

Michael rolls his eyes, because  _duh_ , that was common sense. Besides, he has no intention of speaking to Harry, and asking him to leave would likely require doing just that. Which is probably the real reason he decides asking Harry to remove himself from the premises is off the table.

Calum looks back, eyes scanning the floor. "Which one is he?"

Michael doesn't point, too scared to call attention. Instead, he just says, "Brown hair. Tattoos."

It's vague, but apparently good enough for Calum, because he picks him out of the crowd right away. "Next to the blonde guy?"

Alex tightens his grip around Michael, suddenly defensive. He notices Jack's body go rigid as well, so Michael sits up, giving them warning glances.

"Probably Niall." Jack spits out, and Alex gives a hard nod of confirmation.

Calum turns back around to face them, raising an eyebrow, but it's Luke who speaks instead. "You know the guy he's with, too?"

Michael nods, shrugging. "The blonde kid is Niall. They were best friends the whole time Harry and I dated. I always kind of suspected they'd end up together if Harry and I didn't work out, which...well, yeah."

A hand is reaching out to cover his own then, and without even looking he knows it's Calum's. He offers the boy a small smile.

"I wouldn't doubt Harry left Michael for that guy. They're both fucking assholes." Jack spits out, and Alex smacks his arm, mouthing an inaudible  _Jack, don't_ to him. Jack rolls his eyes, but keeps his mouth shut anyway.

"You know what you have to do, right?" Calum asks after a few seconds of awkward silence. All eyes float over to the boy, and he smiles when he's got full attention. "You've gotta show him how good you're doing."

Alex and Jack make this weird noise that sounds like approval, and Luke just claps excitedly, mumbling about how he loves when Calum does this. Michael just widens his eyes and shakes his head.

"Cal, I, no. I can't. I'm not good, I can't show him how  _not good_ I am."

Calum just laughs, but it doesn't sound patronizing. "It works best if you're not good, Michael, I promise. You get some closure, a chance to cut them deep,  _and_ the rush of pride when they see you're doing just fine without them, regardless of if it's true or not." He lifts Michael's hand, kissing his fingertips softly, which sort of tickles, but Michael can't bring himself to laugh.

He thinks he hears Jack say 'aww', and Luke barks out a giggle at it.

When Calum pulls his lips away, he smiles at the red haired boy for a few seconds. Then he sets Michael's hand down on the table, patting it once before turning to point at Alex and Jack.

"You two. Were you close with this guy?" Calum asks, and he sounds so professional, all matter-of-fact, and Michael's a bit mesmerized.

Alex shrugs, looking at Jack. "Close enough. We were friendly with him." Alex explains.

"Close enough to happen upon a casual conversation at a bar out of the blue?" Calum raises an eyebrow, and Luke squeaks a little in excitement. Michael assumes he's watched Calum do this multiple times. For a brief second, he wonders if Calum's some sort of relationship consultant. Which, if Michael's being honest, would be sort of awesome.

Jack furrows his eyebrows, but nods anyway. "Yeah, I suppose, why?"

"Go get me some intel. Is he dating that kid or not? I want to know all about how he's been doing since you all last saw him. I'm talking career, living conditions, all of it. We've gotta know what we're sending Michael into." The brown-and-blonde haired boy instructs, waving them off dismissively. Without another word, Alex and Jack grab their drinks, casually making their way over to Harry's vicinity.

Turning to his left, Calum gives Luke this intense gaze. "You. Get some more drinks for everyone. We're gonna need lots of liquid courage at this table tonight."

Giddy, Luke nods, scooting out of the booth and practically skipping over to the bar. He's probably more excited about getting to talk to his bartender crush than he is about helping out in Calum's little scheme, but whatever.

With everyone gone from the booth besides the two of them, Michael feels anxious, like something he's not quite ready for is about to happen. Which, it is, he guesses.

Calum rests his hands over Michael's again, giving him this solemn look, lips a straight line. "Mikey, I'm going to teach you how to destroy this guy, okay? If that's what you want."

Michael debates it for a few seconds, because as much as his heart hurts for what happened between him and Harry, he's not sure he's totally ready to confront him. Let alone  _destroy him_ , like Calum keeps saying. Regardless, he's kind of curious what Calum has in the way of advice, so he just nods.

"Y-yeah, okay." Michael sputters out.

Calum smiles proudly, and Michael immediately feels like this was the right decision. "Okay, so, first of all, you  _cannot_ let any real emotion through. Think you can handle that?"

Michael doubts it, but he nods anyway.

"Good. So, you're gonna ask him about how he's doing, and he's going to try and one up you every time, Mikey. Be ready for that, but don't play along in his little game, despite the temptation you might feel. He's only exaggerating to do a number on you, so  _do not_ fall for it, alright?" Calum's eyes are lit up, like this is the highlight of his night. At the same time, he's rubbing his thumb soothingly over Michael's pale skin, and it feels much more intimate than it should.

"Right. Alright," Michael says.

Calum smiles softly. "Then, you have to hit him with a backhanded compliment. Something like, 'I'm so glad you're eating again', or 'wow, I wish I was brave enough to wear something so revealing'. Those ones  _always_ leave them speechless."

The words startle a strange laugh out of Michael, and he's not sure why, but he doesn't have much time to think about it because Luke is clambering back into the booth with a tray full of drinks. The blonde boy hands Michael a shot of tequila and a beer, offering him a wink when the red haired boy groans.

"You'll need it, Mikey," a new voice says, and when he looks up, Alex and Jack are sliding back into the booth.

"Yeah," Jack sighs. "Got your intel, Calum."

"And?" The tanned boy asks, leaning forward in anticipation.

" _And_ ," Jack continues, exchanging his empty glass for another one from the tray. "He's doing really fucking good. He's dating the guy here with him, he just got a promotion at work, and he's sold the old apartment." He speaks carefully, because he knows it'll hurt Michael to hear this, but he also knows Michael  _needs_ to hear this.

Michael exhales sharply, and Luke gives him a sympathetic smile.

"Okay," Calum says, clapping his hands together once, firmly. "Michael, it's go time. We'll send Luke with you to help you, and then you're going to do everything I told you, okay?"

Michael swallows hard, nodding through the nerves as he shakily grabs the tequila and throws it back. He hisses when it burns his nose, but shakes his head to clear the feeling away. His friends cheer him on when he stands up from the booth, Luke joining him.

"You can do this, Michael," The blonde boy mumbles to him. Michael smiles gently, looking over to Calum as if he's some sort of anchor.

"I'll be right here when you get back," Calum says, and that's it, that's suddenly all the encouragement he needs.

Michael turns to Luke, nodding, and they make their way over to the dance floor, where Harry and Niall are standing next to a table.

It's strange, Michael realizes, being so close to Harry for the first time in two months. He sort of feels like throwing up, and actually debates running off to the bathrooms to do just that, but he resists the urge. Luke turns around, giving Michael this little look that tells him it's almost time for the plan to kick into action.

The blonde boy grabs his hand, pulls him close behind his back, muttering something about acting as though Luke is Calum to make it more believable. It makes Michael giggle, hunching over when it makes his abs hurt, and he's not sure if he's laughing because of the alcohol or because of his horrendous nerves.

Michael's not entirely sure what's happening or what Luke is hoping to achieve with this 'pretend I'm Calum' stuff, but then he (very obviously) makes a show of stumbling into Michael, giggling loudly and turning to give Michael a tiny nod before pressing the side of his face to Michael's jawline.

"We've got his attention. He's looking at you now, and it's time to bring it home. Pretend to kiss me." Luke directs, and Michael feels his skin heat up because he's suddenly acutely aware of familiar eyes on him.

Anger bubbles in his veins, and Michael places a hand on Luke's waist, turning his head and pressing a firm kiss to Luke's cheek. The boy squeals a little, stepping on Michael's foot and laughing out an "I said  _pretend_!"

He pulls back, and Luke's eyes dart quickly over Michael's shoulder and back up to his eyes. Then, he whispers, "three, two..."

For a brief second, Michael's horrifically confused, but then a far too familiar voice says, "Michael Clifford? Is that you?"

Michael tenses up, opening his mouth to say something to Luke, but the blonde boy is already slipping into the crowd, leaving Michael no choice but to turn and face the boy that's addressed him. He makes a mental note to punch Luke and Calum for being so damn good at this.

The red haired boy turns, coming face to face with a pair of green eyes that he once found so mesmerizing. "Harry, I, hey," Michael breathes out, and his stomach flips when the boy's lips spread into an easy smile.

"Wow, this is crazy," Harry says giddily, motioning back towards Niall, who gives Michael this weird half-smirk. "We were just on our date night, it's so funny that we bumped into you!"

Michael bites the inside of his cheek, just knowing  _this_ is the game Calum said he'd try to play. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, mostly because he can feel angry tears filling him and he can't risk letting them fall. Not here.

"Yeah, that's...that's pretty weird." Michael says, hoping his voice doesn't sound as shaky as it feels.

Harry smiles, but it's so false, and Michael's not even going to pretend he doesn't know that. He feels an overwhelming urge to punch the dumb expression right off his face, but for obvious reasons, he convinces himself that's not the best way to go.

"How have you been, Mikey?" Harry's eyebrow quirks just slightly as he uses Michael's age old nickname, but Michael feels repulsed as he does so.

He knows Calum said not to get involved when Harry inevitably asked about this, how he was just going to try and outdo Michael, so he just replies, "Honestly, Harry, I'm not stellar. I sort of wish you'd been honest with me when you left me for this clown," he says, motioning to Niall. "And I wish you'd given me a chance to prepare for the fucking bombshell of kicking me out of the apartment that you ended up  _selling anyway_."

Harry looks slightly taken aback, stepping to the side a bit as though he needs to defend his  ~~dumb~~  new boyfriend.

"Fuck, Michael, don't cry over me, it's embarrassing." Harry says, and it's only then that Michael realizes the hot, frustrated tears have escaped his eyes despite his best efforts, staining his cheeks.

Damning his emotions, Michael shakes his head. "Oh, I'm not crying over  _you_ , Harry." He expels a humorless laugh, and Harry's expression turns confused when he does so. "I'm crying because a relationship that I valued is dead, and that's sad to me. But I've stopped crying over you a  _long_ time ago." (It's mostly lies, but Harry doesn't need to know that).

The awe struck look on Harry's face afterwards is worth all the hurt and hate Michael's felt the last several weeks.

"I - what?" Harry scrambles for a response, but ultimately comes up empty. He turns back to look at Niall, who just shrugs like he's not sure what Harry expects him to contribute.

Michael leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to Harry's cheek. "I'm so glad you're eating again, Haz. You look great." He winks, and Harry has this dumbfounded look on his face, standing there with his drink clenched tight and eyes wide. His mouth gapes, and he turns to tell Niall something frantically, probably trying to convince the boy he never starved himself. Which, he never did, but Calum was  _so_ right about the backhanded compliment thing.

 _Calum_.

Michael turns suddenly, thoughts of Harry and revenge long forgotten, and he makes his way through the crowded bar towards the booth. Luke ends up back at his side at some point, squealing about how awesome Michael did, how hilarious it was to watch him get back at Harry. Michael doesn't hear him, though, not really. He's too focused on Calum, who has finally come into his view.

The brunette is standing beside the booth, chatting up Alex and Jack while they wait for their friends to return. When they notice Michael and Luke's presence, all three of them turn to face them with expectant looks on their faces.

Luke reiterates how amazing Michael did, and they all laugh when he tells them what Michael said about Harry eating again. Calum winks, knowing it was his suggestion to feed Harry that line, but Michael isn't really registering anything.

His ears are buzzing, his heart is thumping, and all he can hear is his own blood rushing through his ears as he pushes past Alex and Jack, pressing himself as close to Calum as possible and kissing the hell out of the boy.

Calum squeaks in surprise, tense at first, but he relaxes almost instantly, wrapping an arm loosely around Michael's shoulders as the red haired boy's hands grasp tightly at his waist.

"Fuck, Michael,  _get it_." Jack mutters, and Michael laughs into the kiss.

They have to pull away a few moments later for air, which is apparently still a necessary thing. Calum cups Michael's jaw and tilts his head like a confused puppy.

"What was that for?" Calum asks, sounding out of breath.

Michael just smiles, pecking his lips once more. "For changing my life, I think."

Calum just giggles, jolting forwards to capture Michael's mouth with his own again.

 

**& &&&&**

 

Ashton is sort of on cloud nine.

It's not like him to feel so giddy after a not-quite-a-date, but he hasn't stopped smiling or laughing at customer's jokes since his break ended an hour ago. Maybe Luke just has this effect on him, makes Ashton feel all smiles and good vibes. Which probably isn't a bad thing to feel. Not at all.

He's mixing a [mojito](http://blog.golbsalt.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/mojito.jpg) for some middle aged lady, smiling when she tells him about how it's she and her husband's anniversary, but they didn't realize bars these days were filled with horny twenty year olds in trashy clothing. He comes up with some effortless comeback in response, shaking the tumbler a few more times before pouring the drink into a glass and handing it to the woman. She gives him a generous tip, and that just makes him feel even  _better_.

Life is perfect for Ashton right now.

"You look sexy when you mix drinks." A familiar voice says, and suddenly, Ashton's life is even  _more_ perfect.

He turns, leaning over the counter and pressing a quick, almost unnoticeable kiss to the corner of Luke's mouth. "Do I now?"

Luke hums in content, grabbing a drink menu. "Definitely. Your arms especially. Flexing while you shake them, when you flip the bottles. Very hot."

Ashton laughs, pushing away from the counter. "Why aren't you hanging out with your friends anymore?"

Luke groans, rolling his eyes. "Calum and his boy toy are snogging like their lives depend on it. I suspect they've already made their way into some bathroom to fuck each other's brains out."

Not expecting that response, a laugh fumbles out of Ashton's mouth, and he has to clutch his stomach as he doubles over in hysterics.

"It's not funny," Luke pouts, but he doesn't look offended for long, pout dissipating when he begins to read something off the menu. "What's a [Southern Screw](http://thehoochlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/slow_comfortable_screw_2-266x399.jpg)?"

Ashton doesn't answer for a few seconds, waiting for his laughter to simmer down. "What, too embarrassed to ask me what a Screaming Orgasm is instead?" He winks, loving the way Luke's cheeks heat, turning him as red as the lights on the dance floor behind him.

"I - um, is that...is that even  _on_ here? Is a Screaming Orgasm even real? Are you just fucking with me?" Luke stutters, flipping through the pages of the menu frantically. Ashton almost doubles over laughing again, shaking his head at Luke's awkwardness.

"A Screaming Orgasm is very real, Lukey boy. Or, it could be. For you." He winks again, and he swears Luke almost spontaneously combusts with the amount of embarrassed heat radiating through him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It actually  _is_ a drink, though. Pretty strong, in fact."

Luke nods, eyes perusing the drinks again, probably trying to find this unbelievably titled beverage.

"And, to answer your first question, a Southern Screw is basically the same thing you've been drinking all night, with a bit of Southern Comfort spirit mixed into it. Pretty fruity, also pretty delicious." Ashton explains, smiling when the look of fascination in Luke's eyes returns for the first time since dinner.

"Can you make it for me here? Like, in front of me, I mean? I wanna watch." Luke says innocently, all doe-eyed and excited. He sounds like he genuinely thinks Ashton's mixing is some sort of art. Ashton usually thinks it's whatever, that anyone could do it, but the way Luke looks at him makes him feel as though the skill he possesses is truly something unique.

He gets an idea then, turning and scanning the employees behind the counter with him. They're all pretty laid back people, plus he's been working here longer than all of them as well. So, what he does next shouldn't be much of a problem.

Ashton steps a few feet to the side, unlatching this little gate in the counter, and the panel collapses, revealing a small gap. It's how all the employees get behind the counter for their shifts, and Luke raises an eyebrow when Ashton waves for him to walk through it.

"What?" Luke asks, but he stands anyway. The contrasting reactions make Ashton feel this...this  _way_ , how Luke is confused but still willing to put faith in Ashton without any explanation. It does funny and probably dangerous things to his tummy.

"C'mon, I'll show you when you get back here!" Ashton tells him excitedly, and Luke's eyes light up again, evidently loving a surprise. So the younger boy speed walks through the gate, pausing to watch as Ashton relatches it. When Ashton turns to face him, he's lightly bouncing on his heels, a stupidly giddy smile on his face. Ashton can relate, because he's probably had a similar smile on his face for the last hour since he and Luke kissed on the patio outside.

"Okay," Ashton starts, grabbing Luke's wrist and pulling him over to the counter. "I  _could_  just make it in front of you, but you seem to like the idea of mixing so much, I figured, why not teach you how to do it yourself?"

Luke squeals a little, clapping softly and giving Ashton an expectant look. It startles another giggle out of him, and he should really stop all this giggling. His fondness is probably showing along with a big illuminated arrow to point it out. He's gone totally heart eyes emoji for this stupidly adorable blue eyed boy, and it's  _outrageous_ , okay.

"Here," Ashton instructs, grabbing Luke's waist lightly and trying not to let his fingers linger there when he positions the younger boy at the counter. After grabbing all the bottles and glasses they'll need, he stands behind Luke - though not directly, because he  _is_ a few inches taller than him and there's no way Ashton would be able to see over his shoulder.

"What first?" Luke asks eagerly, hands sort of hovering in the air, fingers twitching in anticipation. Ashton thinks it's adorable how excited he is just to mix a drink.

"Southern Screw, I guess," Ashton says, grabbing a small glass with a few cubes of ice already in it and sliding it directly in front of Luke. "Start with the vodka. Around two ounces."

Luke nods, reaching for the bottle of [SKYY](http://www.fakeshoredrive.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/skyyvodka.jpeg) and eyeballing the measurement almost perfectly. After pouring in the vodka, he sets down the bottle, turning to Ashton for further instruction.

"Alright, now, about the same amount of [Southern Comfort](http://dieline.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8345250f069e20133edf9121f970b-550wi)." Ashton tutors, pointing to the bottle and nodding when Luke unscrews the cap of it. The younger boy, again, pours the alcohol almost perfectly, and Ashton laughs. "You're sure you've never done this before?"

"I've got a knack for measurements, I guess," Luke shrugs dismissively, and Ashton almost frowns, wondering if he's offended the boy somehow. But, just as quickly as it appeared, Luke's cold shoulder is gone, and he's smiling brightly. "What's next?"

Ashton decides the best option is to ignore Luke's strange-but-brief attitude, shaking it off and handing him a carton of orange juice. "Six ounces, by the book, but I usually just pour until the glass is almost full. Get the most compliments when it's made that way."

Luke does as told, and when the drink is completed, he looks so damn proud of himself. Ashton sticks a straw in the glass, stirring lightly before sticking an orange slice on the brim of it.

"Voila!" Ashton exclaims, cheering. Luke throws his head back in a laugh, high fiving the older boy when he throws his hand up for one. "A perfect drink!"

Luke reaches out and grabs it, taking a small sip through the straw, humming when the alcohol hits his tongue. Although it sounds a bit weird in his head - or weird in general, maybe - Ashton thinks he could watch Luke sip his drink for hours. It's just that he's, like, a little kitten in the way he does so.

"Can you show me the Screaming Orgasm now?" Luke asks innocently, and Ashton has to force himself to laugh in order to hide the unexpected  _thing_ those words do to the pit of his stomach.

Ashton is so fucked.

 

**/////**

 

Being shoved backwards through the door of a Los Angeles nightclub bathroom is  _not_ how Calum Hood expected his evening to end up. He came to this bar to get wasted and forget about what an idiot he is for failing his courses, not to hook up with adorable guys with crazy colored hair.

But here he is, trying not to stumble as Michael plants his hands on Calum's waist, maneuvering the boy into the grungy bathroom. Their lips are attached, have been since Michael practically threw himself at Calum back at the booth a few minutes ago.

When they reach the middle of the bathroom, Michael pulls away, bending down and checking for any feet under the three stalls. Apparently nobody's in any of them, because Michael hums in satisfaction before attacking Calum's mouth again, tongue and teeth clashing.

Calum tugs them backwards, not stopping until his entire backside is pressed against the tiled wall, Michael pinning him impossibly closer to it. The red haired boy removes his mouth from Calum's, tracing his kiss swollen lips down the tanned boy's jaw before sucking harshly at the skin underneath it.

Involuntarily, Calum bucks his hips, groaning when he finds the friction against his hardening cock much more quickly than he expected to since Michael is pressed so close.

"Shit, Mikey, are you - " Calum tries a question, cutting himself off when he knows it will inevitably come out poorly constructed and ineffective in getting an answer.

"Am I what?" Michael responds faintly, mouth occupied with nipping at the skin all over Calum's throat.

Calum whimpers, fucking  _whimpers_ , tilting his head to give the boy better access. Michael capitalizes on it, bringing a hand up to wrap around the back of the brunette's neck as he licks and sucks dark bruises on already tanned skin.

He thrusts his hips forwards again, and this time they both groan. Michael's sporting an erection now, too, and the realization slightly calms Calum, knowing he's not the only one becoming so wrecked.

"D'you want to, y'know," Calum barely gets out, but apparently Michael gets it, because he's nodding into Calum's neck, pulling back to look into the boy's eyes for the first time since they walked into the bathroom.

The eyes Calum remembers being bright emerald are darkening to some ivy color, pupils blown wide with need. Calum sort of adores knowing he's done that to Michael.

"Yeah, I want to. Let me get you off, yeah?" Michael asks, fingers twitching up under the hem of Calum's shirt from where they're pressed to the brunette's hips.

Calum nods eagerly, arching into the touch, before looking nervously at the bathroom door. He feels too guilty to lock it, because it's happened to him before, and it  _sucks_ when you have to pee at a bar and there's people fucking like rabbits in the bathroom, a place that shouldn't typically be used for fucking like rabbits. _  
_

Or maybe Calum was just jealous before, since he didn't have anyone to fuck  _him_ in a sketchy nightclub bathroom (until now).

"Here," Michael says, practically reading his mind as he grabs Calum's wrist and tugs him gently towards the nearest stall. 

It's small, too small for any comfort to be had for two people. Although that's probably the point, since bathroom stalls are typically a 'maximum occupancy of one' sort of thing.

Regardless, they make it work, shutting and locking the door behind them before Michael is pressing Calum against the wall again, this time cautious not to shove him into a toilet paper dispenser or anything.

Michael's hands are suddenly all over Calum, pressing up under his shirt and wrapping around to feel the soft curve of his lower back. Calum leans into the touch, moaning softly.

Calum turns his head slightly, pressing a series of kisses from Michael's cheek down to his collarbone, leaving soft bite marks in his wake every now and again. When he does, the red haired boy gasps, which only urges him to continue doing it.

When Michael's hands dip below the waistband of Calum's jeans, cold fingers grasping the warm skin of his ass, Calum pulls back, shaking his head. Michael retracts his hands immediately, but Calum only shakes his head again, pulling the hands back down to cup his ass through his jeans.

"Feels good, but I don't have anything with me." Calum elaborates, caressing Michael's jaw and kissing his lips gently.

Michael nods, fingers digging in deliciously. "Don't have anything either. Not gonna fuck you anyway, though. Not enough room. Not enough time."

Calum tilts his head in confusion, arms wrapping around Michael's shoulders. "Not enough time?"

Again, Michael nods, hands slipping down to Calum's jean clad thighs and pulling upwards. Calum gets the message, hopping up so that his legs are wrapped around the red haired boy's waist, Michael sliding his body closer between Calum's thighs in order to hold the boy up.

"Not enough time to fuck you. At least, not like you deserve," Michael murmurs, peppering kisses all over the other boy's face.

"How do I deserve to be fucked?" Calum inquires, tone possessing a joking lilt, but Michael ignores the fact that the question is mostly just teasing.

"Hard and slow. You deserve for it to be dragged out, to be pampered and told how fucking gorgeous you are. You deserve it all, Calum, fuck." Michael's voice cracks when he speaks, and Calum's not sure if it's because he's so turned on or because he's super emotional.

He decides not to dwell on it, instead grinding his hips down and reveling in the way Michael mutters a quiet curse, eyelids fluttering closed.

Once he's recollected himself, Michael fumbles with the button on Calum's jeans, popping it open and sliding the zipper down with ease. Ultimately, Calum decides it would be more efficient to do this when they're both firmly planted on the ground, so Michael lets Calum's legs fall from his waist, undoing his own jeans as he waits.

Then they're kissing again, feverish and mostly tongue but it's still good, Calum decides. Especially when Michael bites down on his lower lip, tearing an unintentional whine from the back of Calum's throat.

"Touch me," Calum whispers, and he's almost embarrassed that the words have slipped out, but any humiliation he might've felt melts away when Michael nods eagerly, tugging Calum's jeans and boxers down to the middle of his thighs before wrapping his hand around Calum's length.

He almost can't look, knows if he watches Michael's hand or arm moving in that all too decipherable motion that he won't be able to last that long. He ends up doing so anyway, eyes fluttering down to where Michael's pale fingers are lightly stroking his much darker cock.

"Fuck, Michael," Calum manages to say, mouth agape as he fucks his hips forwards gently, trying to get more. More what, he's not sure, just  _more_.

Michael removes his hand for a brief (yet still torturous) moment, spitting into his palm before stroking Calum again, and the boy groans lowly because the added slickness is  _so_ much better than the rough slide from before. 

"Let me," Calum mutters, reaching forward and sliding his hand into Michael's briefs. He's already leaking precome, and Calum breathes out shakily, running his thumb over the slit to collect the bead of it, smearing the slickness down to the base of Michael's cock.

"Cal," Michael whimpers, inching closer and nudging the boy's jaw with his nose. It succeeds in getting Calum to lift his head up, and Michael connects their lips as soon as he's able.

It's just getting good, Michael bucking forward desperately into Calum's fist, Calum whining into Michael's mouth each time the boy flicks his wrist sinfully perfect at the head of his cock, when the bathroom door flies open.

" _Shit_!" Michael whisper-shouts, squeezing Calum's dick in shock. It makes Calum shakily moan anyway, because he's so close any contact with his cock could have him coming within the next few minutes, probably.

Panicked, Michael covers Calum's mouth with his palm, giving the boy a warning look. Calum does his best to look innocent, picking up the speed with which he's jerking the other boy.

Michael bites down on Calum's shoulder to stop himself from making too many noises, keeping his hand over Calum's lips the whole time. Which is probably a smart move, because Calum can't ever keep himself quiet on sheer willpower alone.

The sound of feet padding on the tiled floor fills the room, and suddenly the stall next to them is occupied. Calum's eyes widen, meeting Michael's that are blissed out, but still holding humor within them because this whole situation is so ridiculous.

Michael suddenly resumes his steady rhythm on Calum's cock, and it catches the boy so off guard he almost cries out. Surprisingly, he holds back, resorting to a soft moan as he closes his eyes, grinding his hips onto Michael's fist.

Michael's not faring much better, it seems, eyebrows furrowing and mouth gaping in a silent moan as he pants heavily. Calum gets it, he's right there with him, his orgasm just in reach as he staves it off for the sake of the other guy in this bathroom.

"Hurry up," Michael spits out between clenched teeth, and at first Calum thinks that's sort of rude, making it sound like he just wishes Calum would come already so he can get this over with. But then he realizes Michael's talking about the bathroom guy, and Calum stifles a giggle.

Thankfully, the sound of a flushing toilet echoes in the room just seconds later, and with the added noise, Michael emits a desperate, throaty groan that has Calum's eyes widening in shock, since it's the loudest the boy has been this whole time. When he realizes it's probably because Michael's  _so close_ , Calum shudders.

The hand that Michael has encasing Calum's mouth is getting damp with sweat, and it's unconventional, totally in the way of him telling Michael how hot he looks right now, how badly he wants to watch the boy come.

Michael is frantically fucking into Calum's hand now, and Calum is jerking him twice as frantically, pleading with his eyes what he can't say with a hand over his lips. Michael gets it, but bites his lip and shakes his head.

"Can't," he whispers. "Gonna be loud."

Calum's eyes practically roll to the back of his head at those words, because there's nothing he wants to hear right now  _more_ than the loud sounds Michael will make when he comes.

Several long moments later, and the footsteps are heading towards the exit. The bathroom door opens again, filling the echoey room with music, before closing and leaving the two of them alone once again.

As soon as the door is shut, Michael is moaning shamelessly, voice breaking as he cries out. His eyes squeeze shut, hips bucking randomly and then he's coming, hard and hot all over Calum's fist, and Calum barely has time to mutter out a ' _fuck, yes_ ' before he's coming, too, mouth opening on a broken whine. Michael slips two fingers into the boy's mouth, and Calum just greedily closes around them, sucking gently as they both rock against each other through their orgasms.

In an effort not to fall, Michael leans against Calum, both of them holding themselves up on the support of the wall. He kisses Calum then, slow and soft, before settling his forehead in the crook of Calum's neck.

"Holy shit," Calum breathes out, and Michael just laughs softly, nodding his agreement.

It's silent for a minute or so, and in those seconds, Calum starts to feel sort of uneasy. Like, what if this is it for the night? What if Michael has no intention of carrying this thing with Calum any further, never even planned on taking him home?

Calum's not, like,  _clingy_ , it's just that he's taken this horribly inconvenient liking to the red haired boy, has developed this certain fondness and he's not sure he could handle any more rejection in one day.

Michael leans back, reaching to the side and collecting a handful of toiler paper. It's the rough stuff, so Calum braces himself as Michael hastily cleans up the messes on their stomachs and hands before dumping the wad into the toilet, not bothering with a flush. Calum scrunches his nose up at the sight, and Michael giggles, kissing his nose.

"C'mon. Can I buy you another drink?" Michael asks happily, and it seems like such a bizarre question when they're both stood there with their pants down to their knees and fucked out looks on their faces.

Calum laughs breathlessly, nodding. His earlier fear of rejection is gone, and he kisses Michael again, just because he can. The boy does nothing to fight it or pull away, just smiles into it and lets Calum be the one to break apart when he's ready to. Somewhat awkwardly, they tug up their jeans, giggling when Michael stumbles a bit in the cramped space.

"Yeah, I'd love that," Calum finally answers, and the two of them exit the bathroom, hand in hand.

 

**~~~~~**

 

Luke hasn't been this happy in months, possibly even years. His heart is still pounding heavy in his chest, and he can't stop stealing glances towards the bar, even though Ashton is pretty distracted with all the sudden orders being barked at him. Luke thinks it's kind of adorable how his curls flop around his face with his head on its swivel, eyebrows furrowing as he struggles to hear over the loud music.

He's drinking a [Screaming Orgasm](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4f/Orgasm_\(cocktail\).jpg) - which is actually fucking  _real_. Even when he asked Ashton to show it to him, he was still 98% sure it didn't exist. But no, it's in front of him, only half finished because it's strong, really strong, but also sort of sweet from the [Kahlua](http://cocktailculture.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/kahlua_brand.jpg) in it.

They're back at the booth. That is, he, Calum, and Michael are at the booth. Jack and Alex have evidently dipped out to go home with some girls they met, which doesn't appear to phase Michael any since he's pretty much glued to Calum's side anyway. Luke's only vaguely jealous of how cute they are, Michael's arm draped around Luke's best friend's shoulders, Calum just leaning into Michael's side willingly.

"I dunno what it is, guys," Luke muses for about the fifth time since they sat down together ten minutes ago. "He's just so..." He trails off, watching in fascination as Ashton giggles at something a customer has said. God, he's starting to think that giggle is the cure to all evil in this world.

"Perfect." Calum finishes, smirking because it's how Luke has finished that sentence every time he's said it. "Yeah, we know."

Luke sticks his tongue out at his friend, taking a small sip of his drink and wincing only slightly as it goes down. It's just...vodka  _and_ Irish whiskey? It's a lot to pound down at once. At least for Luke, who normally opts for the fruity kind of drinks that only subtly leave the taste of alcohol on his taste buds.

He's feeling so conflicted, though, despite his overwhelming happiness. He can't stop thinking about Calum's earlier words, telling him to be careful about rushing head first into something with Ashton, because it's just one night, because Ashton might not care in the morning. The thing is, Luke's not sure if that bothers him or not - Ashton not caring the morning after.

"Is it logical to fall for someone after just one night?" Luke mumbles, and he doesn't even realize he's said it aloud until Calum is touching his hand from across the table, smiling brightly.

"Fuck logic." The brunette says, wrapping his arms around Michael's waist and kissing the boy's neck sweetly. Luke wants to vomit, but also kind of wants to coo at them, because it's unfair how unrealistically adorable they are. "I say go for it. He obviously makes you feel alive, and feeling alive is the only thing that matters, honestly."

"Agreed," Michael grins, planting his lips against Calum's cheek, and it must be sloppy or something because Calum shrieks and shoves the boy away halfheartedly, rubbing at the spot and laughing.

Maybe it's the alcohol swimming in his veins, or maybe it's the euphoric look on Calum's face making him jealous (let's be honest, Luke knows exactly what went down in that bathroom. He's seen Calum look this way far too many times, because like, they're roommates, and he's not gonna pretend he doesn't know why Calum looks all fucked out when he comes back from the showers. He knows Michael and Calum got each other off, it's so obvious), but suddenly Luke feels daring.

Like, he's so sick of being the inexperienced one when they play Never Have I Ever at the stupid parties Calum drags him along to. He's tired of being dumped when he confesses to said lack of experience to a potential partner, because nobody wants to wait around for the virgin in college.

"I want to do something crazy." Luke says suddenly, looking over to Calum and Michael who have left their own little world and come back to reality for a few seconds.

"Hm? Like what?" Calum laughs.

"Like, something for Ash. To let him know I'm like, into him, I guess? That's a thing people do, right?" Luke's nervous. Trying to be suggestive isn't his best skill. He'd almost passed out when he asked Ashton to show him the Screaming Orgasm, practically choked on his own spit when it made the older boy stutter nervously.

Michael chews on his lip, then shrugs. "Well, like, girls sometimes send their panties to potential hookups in bars."

Calum rolls his eyes, shoving Michael's shoulder. The red haired boy looks absolutely offended, and Luke has to laugh. "First of all," Calum states, "panties are much sexier than  _boxers_. Like, I'd be more grossed out than turned on if a guy's boxers showed up on my doorstep."

Michael smirks. "Is this your way of telling me you're into crossdressing?"

Calum rolls his eyes. " _Secondly_ , there's the whole skinny jeans thing. The amount of effort I've seen that goes into getting those fucking jeans on and off Luke's legs is outrageous. Not worth it," Calum concludes, nodding as if he's so pleased with himself.

"Fine, fine!" Michael laughs, surrendering. "If it's all about the direct approach, which Calum seems to think it is, then just send the guy a condom. Write your name on the wrapper or something, for the hell of it."

Calum raises an eyebrow at Michael, then shifts the gaze to Luke, who's suddenly feeling very flustered. He almost prefers the boxers idea, but Calum has two very solid points about that scenario. _  
_

Despite that Calum knows very well that Luke's a complete virgin, he doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at Luke because the ball is in his court now. But despite his nerves, he's jittery and buzzed and really in  _like_ with Ashton, so he nods eagerly.

"Don't suppose you'd have a condom on you? I didn't bring one." Luke says sheepishly. There's a reason he didn't bring one, but he chooses not to elaborate on that.

Calum shakes his head, but Michael is nodding, opening his wallet and sliding a foiled square across the table. It's so foreign to Luke, as he picks it up and stares at it a little too awkwardly, probably.

Michael squeaks, and Luke's attention is immediately drawn back to the two boys in front of him. Calum is glaring (fondly) at Michael, who's blushing madly.

"What?" Luke asks, feeling left out of the joke.

"You said you didn't have one!" Calum accuses, and Luke's eyes widen, because  _oh_. "We could've totally - "

Luke doesn't stick around to hear the end of that sentence, because ew. He doesn't need to know what kind of sexual escapades have gone on between Michael and his best friend in the past thirty minutes, so he quickly pulls himself out of the booth and walks across the room towards the bar.

Ashton sees him when he approaches, smiling widely and holding up a finger to signify he'd be with him in a second.

He waits as patiently as he can, condom practically burning a hole in his pocket. He's thinking about all the possibilities that could come from the tiny item, flushing the more he does so.

"Luke?" A chirpy voice asks, pulling the boy from his daydreams.

"Hey, yeah." Luke starts, maiming himself for the awful start. "I'm, um. I need another drink?" He's pulling this conversation straight out of his ass, and Ashton probably knows it, but he just smirks and plays along anyway.

"Oh yeah? What would you like?" He asks, his voice tainted with something Luke can't place; is almost too scared to place.

Luke bites his lip, black ring sucking in behind his teeth in the process. "Surprise me?"

Ashton nods excitedly, turning around and scanning the rows of alcohol before clapping once, as though inspiration has struck him. He moves in front of the shelves, pulling bottles down quickly and randomly so that Luke can't piece them together. Not that he'd know what the combinations would make anyway. He pretty much has a firm grasp on Screwdrivers and Cosmopolitans, and that's it.

He watches with some fascination as Ashton flips a glass between his long fingers -  _fingers,_  fuck, Luke needs a break - then pours the contents of the bottles into a tumbler and shakes.

When he's done, he pours the drink - some little orange and peach looking mixture. His mouth sort of waters, even though he didn't actually come over for the beverage.

"One of the guys in a band we toured with used to make this all the time. Nobody ever orders it, so I was surprised we had all the ingredients." Ashton explains, like it's some little lecture on alcoholic drinks. Luke still eats it up, loves hearing Ashton speak about the drinks he makes.

Hastily, Luke takes a sip, and hums in delight as the fruity flavors swarm his mouth. It's so sweet, he's sure his lips will taste like the drink for hours, but he just takes another pull anyway.

"It's called [A Fuzzy Thing](http://blog.bestamericanpoetry.com/.a/6a00e54fe4158b8833017d3cdad39f970c-pi). Thought you might like it, since you're all about the citrus flavored stuff." He winks, and Luke blushes because Ashton's been paying such close attention to what makes him cringe when he drinks it and what makes him chug it down.

"I do." Luke nods, and then he remembers what he came up here to do. Feeling around in his pocket, he pulls out a wad of cash, knowing the condom is in the middle of the money. It strikes him that Ashton might think it's just an embarrassing accident, but then he reminds himself that Ashton is too suave for that, he'll know  _exactly_ what the condom means. _  
_

As soon as the money's on the counter, Luke is speeding away, sliding back into the booth where Michael and Calum are still bickering about their bathroom encounter. Luke still doesn't want to hear it, but he can't exactly escape up to the bar now, can't face Ashton after what he's offered up to him.

Suddenly, Luke realizes a very possible crisis - what if Ashton doesn't want him? Sure, they've kissed, but kissing and fucking are two very different things, and it's entirely plausible to want one without the other.

He's in the middle of eating himself alive with worry when his phone vibrates, and when he pulls it out of his pocket, he finds a new text from Ashton.

Nervously, he opens it with shaky fingers, and his heart's newfound little pitter patter picks up when he reads the words Ashton's sent him.

> **FROM: ash xx ( _1:04 AM_ )**
> 
> If you're sure, Luke, I'm on another break in twenty minutes. xx
> 
>  

*********

 

Michael is starting to think that everything with Calum is just so  _easy_. Talking to him is effortless, especially because he laughs at Michael's stupid jokes and he never seems to judge him. _  
_

They're seated at a table, perched on rather uncomfortable bar stools, but neither of them seem to care as they order another round of drinks. Luke has disappeared somewhere, probably with Ashton, because the bartender is nowhere to be seen, and neither is the blonde. 

"So," Calum says with a small smile, "what do you do for a living?"

Michael has to giggle, he  _has to_ , because that question seems so out of place after he's already had his hand down Calum's pants once tonight (and would sort of enjoy getting to do it again later, thanks).

"I'm a student. Just transferred to the university from Sydney at the beginning of the semester." Michael explains, taking a sip of his cocktail.

Calum's eyes seem to light up significantly at those words, and at first Michael worries he's about to be bombarded with the usual 'wow, you're from  _Australia_?!'. Instead, though, Calum just perches his chin on his fists, staring at Michael in wonderment.

"No way, I was born there!" Calum gushes, and Michael's jaw drops.

"You're kidding. I can't even hear your accent!" Michael points out, a smile playing at his lips when Calum blushes, shrugging.

"Well, I mean, my sister and I were literally only  _born_ there. Our parents moved us to LA when we were really young, so. Yeah." Calum elaborates. "They still live here, not too far from campus, actually. The only reason I don't live with them during the school year is because Luke's too much of a chicken shit to live on his own." The boy hesitates then, frowning, and suddenly becoming very interested in his hands. "Though, I'll probably have to move back in when the university pulls my money."

Michael feels bad. Like, really bad, because he'd almost forgotten why Calum had ended up in this bar in the first place - to forget about flunking his entire semester's schedule.

He frowns, apologizing to Calum even though he doesn't really have a reason to. It just feels like the right thing, and the boy's resulting half smile tells Michael it was a good move.

"What're you going to school for, then?" Michael asks, avoiding the talk about his grades because he can tell Calum doesn't truly want to talk about it, despite that he brought it up. Can tell by the sadness swimming in his chocolate eyes.

Calum sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I don't even know. I just...my scholarship is for soccer. I haven't thought about anything past that, didn't even really pay attention to the classes." He pauses, before emitting a humorless laugh. It makes Michael's heart ache.

"Why not?" Michael inquires.

Calum shrugs, flicking the straw in his drink around with his fingers. He's not looking at Michael, which worries the boy, but eventually Calum answers him, so Michael concludes he's not angry at the red haired boy for asking so many questions.

"I guess going to parties and keeping up appearances with the cool kids was more important. It's what I always did in high school, I figured I could swing it in college. I don't advise it." Calum winks, tries to make it sound like a joke, but Michael knows it runs deeper than that.

He apologizes again, and Calum just waves him off, tells him to stop feeling so guilty for the mistakes he didn't make.

"What about you?" Calum asks then, sort of changing the subject. "What are you studying?"

Michael smiles, loves talking about his art major and how he finds solace in his painting and sketching. Calum just watches him as he speaks, eyes soaking up his arm movements and Michael loves that he can already tell when the brunette is truly interested in something because his eyebrows raise and his mouth parts slightly.

And whoa, the L word. Michael should probably keep that under wraps. He doesn't Love anything or anyone yet, no way.

It's just that he sort of feels like he does, kind of trailing off as Calum interjects with little head nods or surprised gasps every now and then during Michael's story. It's a dangerous feeling, one he hasn't associated with anything since Harry, and he's briefly terrified that Jack was right. That he's been kissing Calum and  _pretending_ , thinking he's happy when it's just a temporary fix.

Hell, maybe it  _is_ just a temporary fix. There's not really anything wrong with that, and Michael wouldn't think twice if it weren't for the fact that he really cares about Calum's feelings and sort of  _wants_  to wake up next to him tomorrow morning. And those sorts of feelings are  _not_ temporary fix feelings.

So he does the only thing he knows will clear his mind.

He orders another round of drinks.

By the third round, he's a bit more drunk, probably a little rowdy, and Calum is still there. Still looking at him like he's beautiful, still looking at him like he's never been broken, still looking at Michael like he has the potential to  _love him_.

And Michael is starting to think he has the potential to  _let him_.

 

**& &&&&**

 

"You're sure about this?" Luke asks for the hundredth time.

Ashton giggles, rolling his eyes at the younger boy. He reaches out, grabbing Luke's wrist and pulling him tight to his chest. The boy yelps when they're suddenly so close, and it makes Ashton smirk, leaning down and capturing Luke in a light kiss. His lips still taste of orange juice and peach schnapps, and it makes Ashton hum softly.

"Do you trust me?" Ashton counters solemnly, and it's almost as though Luke doesn't even think about his answer before he's nodding and mumbling 'yeah, of course'.

The older boy smiles, pulling away and walking a few more feet down the empty corridor of the basement below the bar. It's where all the staff goes on their breaks and stores their items during their shifts, so Ashton has unlimited access to everything down here. Still, Luke seems to be a bit on edge, hastily following Ashton as he ushers Luke along.

When he reaches one of the storage closets, Ashton flicks the handle and silently prays nobody has locked it. Because the gods seem to be on his side this evening, the knob turns easily, unlatching the door.

Ashton smirks, turning to face Luke, who's standing a few feet away and skeptically peering into the dark space. In hopes of curving the boy's curiosity, Ashton reaches in and flicks on the light. The closet isn't actually all that small; it can easily fit more than two people inside, and it's relatively empty since it's not the most commonly used storage unit they have.

He extends his hand to Luke, who stares at it for less than a second before clasping it with his own tightly. "You're okay with this, right?" Ashton verifies, and Luke just nods, filling the space between them and stepping into the closet.

It amazes Ashton that such a stunning, wonderful human being would follow him so blindly. Would lay out every emotion they have and then take a step back, allowing Ashton to pick and choose what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to give to the younger boy in return. He's never felt so  _adored_ before.

Ashton follows Luke into the closet, shutting and locking the door behind them. The second he turns around, Luke's mouth is on him, smashing against his lips with a needy whimper and it's possibly the best sound he's ever heard, second only to Luke's laugh.

He trails his hands up Luke's hips, past his waist, over his shoulders and resting on the boy's small biceps, squeezing gently. Luke just presses himself closer, until there's no visible space between their bodies anymore.

Ashton pushes back until Luke stumbles, but he doesn't let the boy fall, just eases him across the closet until Luke's back is pinned against the wall opposite the door. He brushes his lips along Luke's jawline, occasionally puckering them for a chaste kiss, but mostly just leaving a hot trail along Luke's skin with his open mouthed pants.

The younger boy squirms, tilting his head, and Ashton lowers his mouth to place similar kisses and sensations to Luke's neck.

When he laps his tongue out to lick at the slightly salty skin, Luke's hips buck forward, and Ashton can feel that the boy is already sporting an impressive hard on, watches the flush creep up the boy's neck when he realizes what he's done.

"You're so desperate for it, huh, Luke?" Ashton whispers, using his hands to shove Luke's hips back against the wall. He nudges the boy's legs apart with his knee, before stepping close and slotting his thigh between Luke's.

Luke exhales shakily, head dipping back and eyes fluttering shut. "Ash, I..."

Ashton grinds his hips up, making the blonde boy shudder and bite his lip. He can't help but watch the thin black ring as it tucks under his teeth, and Ashton feels the overwhelming need to feel the cool metal against his hot skin.

So he surges forward, pressing their lips together and it's still  _just_ as good as the first time. The contrast of the metal on his skin is so unique - he's never been with anyone that had something like it. He's definitely thinking he's been missing out, although he's not entirely sure he'd have found it so attractive on anyone  _but_ Luke.

Luke turns his head, breaking their lips apart and panting hard. Ashton gets it, he's just as needy for it. Has been since he found the condom hidden within his tip half an hour ago.

Ashton grips Luke's hands - which are glued to Ashton's waist - and brings them up on either side of the blonde's head, pinning them to the wall. He leans forward, kissing and nipping at each wrist as his hips continue to grind slowly but firmly against Luke's.

"I could lose my job for fucking a customer," Ashton says lowly, bringing his mouth back to suck just behind Luke's ear.

"Ash," Luke says again, squirming. Ashton feels a bit of a struggle against his hands keeping Luke's wrists on the wall, so he slackens his grip, allowing the boy to free his hands and push at Ashton's shoulders.

Confused, Asthon backs away, both boys breathing heavily in the suddenly very hot room.

"Luke, you okay?" Ashton asks, frowning.

The boy sighs, hiding his face in his hands and making this strange whining noise. Ashton chuckles, stepping forward and pulling his hands away before tapping Luke's chin to encourage him to look up.

He does, and as soon as their eyes meet, he sighs again. "It's embarrassing."

Ashton's twice as confused now, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head. "Forgive me, Luke, I'm not following you."

"I'm so sorry. It's just, you're so amazing and funny and  _super_ hot, and I was trying to keep you interested in me." Luke bites his lip nervously, eyes twitching slightly like he wants to look away from Ashton but can't quite make himself.

Ashton's frown deepens. "Luke, I  _am_ interested in you. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Luke nods. "Yeah, I get that, but...Ash, I'm a total fucking virgin. And it's not just, like, a 'sex with boys' virgin kind of thing. I've never been with  _anyone_ , but I knew if I told you that before I wouldn't have been able to even get you here with me." He sighs, lifting a hand as though to make some kind of point before letting it drop in frustration. "But now here we are, and I really like you, Ashton, but I don't want my first time to be up against the wall of a closet in some nightclub. No offense."

Ashton pauses for a moment, before erupting into a fit of giggles and cupping Luke's face in his hands when the boy pouts at the reaction.

"It's not funny." Luke says.

The older boy chuckles a bit longer anyways, before shaking his head and smoothing his thumb along Luke's cheekbone. "Sweetheart, I don't care if you're a virgin or if you've fucked every single person upstairs."

Luke's eyes widen, and he smiles. "Really?"

Ashton just smirks, leaning in and placing a gentle, closed-mouth kiss to Luke's lips. "Of course not. What matters is that in this moment, you've chosen me. And that's an honor in itself."

Luke beams, throwing his arms around Ashton's neck and kissing him with a bit more purpose. His tongue is prodding at Ashton's mouth, and he eagerly grants access, his own tongue surging forward and exploring every inch of Luke that he can.

The blonde pulls away again, hiding his face in Ashton's neck. "I still...I still want to do something, though."

Ashton giggles, nodding. "I would never pressure you into anything, but I'd be honored to give you the best blowjob you'll ever receive, yeah?"

Luke groans, leaning his head back, and Ashton takes that as his cue to kiss at his throat again. As soon as his lips make contact, Luke is nodding, like giving his body over wasn't enough of a confirmation already.

Ashton kisses his way down Luke's body, mouthing damply over Luke's shirt as he makes his way down to the floor to rest on his knees. The position isn't comfortable, it never is, but he knows it'll get so much better as soon as he's got Luke's cock on his tongue.

He looks up through his lashes, and Luke is staring right back, mouth open as he breathes heavily, hands splayed out on the wall beside him, trying to keep them to himself. Ashton wishes he wouldn't - wants to feel those large hands all over his body. So he tells him that.

"Don't have to hold back, Luke. Want to feel you everywhere." He mumbles, leaning forward to mouth over Luke's cock, straining through his jeans.

Luke shivers, reaching out with one hand and sinking his long fingers into Ashton's thick curls. He leans up into the touch, coaxing the boy's grip to tighten. When it does, Ashton moans, reaching up to undo the button and zipper on Luke's jeans.

He tugs the tight jeans down, along with Luke's boxers, letting them bunch around the lanky boy's knees. Afterwards, he leans forward, kissing along Luke's hip bones and loosely wrapping his fingers around Luke's length.

When he finally mouths over the head, Luke shudders, thighs shaking, and he expels an uneven breath. His grip in Ashton's hair tightens, and the older boy moans, slacking his jaw and sliding down as far as he can right off the bat. Luke seems to love it, because he arches his back and whines in the back of his throat.

It's been awhile since Ashton gave head, easily several months, and even longer since he's received it. But he knows he's good at giving it from all the reviews he's gotten, and he's right there with Luke because he definitely knows how good it feels, how impossible the wet heat seems, especially for the first time.

Looking up, he sees Luke's head tossed back, neck veins pulsating and Adam's apple bobbing hard as he swallows dryly. He looks so good like that, it's unreal, and Ashton has to simultaneously look away and dig the heel of his hand onto his crotch to keep himself from coming right there in his jeans.

He hollows his cheeks out, sliding his mouth off and panting to regain his breath. While he catches it, he continues to jerk Luke steadily, the younger boy's hips thrusting away from the wall and into Ashton's hand. The older boy smirks, licking gently at the underside of the head, all red and swollen with pleasure.

"Close?" Ashton teases, knows it's pointless to ask because Luke is  _obviously_ close, whimpering and rolling his hips in search of any friction whatsoever.

"Yeah,  _yeah_ ," Luke breathes, eyes squeezing shut. The hand in Ashton's hair pushes down slightly, urging Ashton lower. The older boy chuckles, but nods, sinking his mouth back down Luke's length.

This time, he's more warmed up, and so he's able to take more, relaxing his throat when Luke's tip starts brushing against the back of it. There's tears prickling at his eyes - not from pain, necessarily, just from the struggle to keep himself calm and focusing on his breathing while his throat is suddenly far more occupied than it has been in months.

Involuntarily, he swallows hard, and Luke cries out, pulling Ashton's hair and yanking the boy's face back just as he starts to come. Hot streaks hit Ashton's chin and cheeks, and he can't help but moan as loud as Luke is at the feeling of it.

He stands back up, pulling a towel from one of the shelves and wiping his face. Luke looks humiliated as he watches, muttering out an apology, but Ashton just laughs, cupping Luke's neck and diving in for another kiss.

Luke groans, probably able to taste himself on Ashton's tongue, and  _fuck_ , that's too much. Ashton has to get out of this while he still can. His break is likely almost over, and people will come looking for him soon. He can't be found down here, it could probably cost him his job. _  
_

"I have to go, Luke. My break's gonna end..." Ashton tries, but it's a futile attempt because he makes no move to pull away from where Luke's got Ashton's hips pressed against his own.

"I wanna see yours," Luke sighs, hand sinking between their bodies and ghosting over the prominent bulge in Ashton's jeans. "You've gotta be in pain, let me help."

Ashton groans, half in pleasure but also in frustration, because as much as he wants to take Luke up on what is essentially an offer (or maybe just take  _Luke_ ), his break ends in a few minutes and that's not nearly long enough for the time he wants to spend with the boy.

Ashton shakes his head, pulling away and giggling when Luke leans forward, chasing his kiss. "I want to, Luke, but I can't. I can't."

Luke looks so disappointed that Ashton almost says  _fuck it_ and lets the boy get him off, but he can't risk being found out. Can't risk either of them being found out.

It's not like he's embarrassed of Luke. Hell no. He'd be the proudest guy on Earth to walk back into that bar (or anywhere, for that matter) with Luke on his arm, but there's that whole no-sex-during-work thing. It might be an unspoken rule, but it's still sort of a rule, and Ashton doesn't want to sacrifice his reasonable pay any more than he already has by bringing Luke down here in the first place.

" _Ashton_ ," Luke pouts, and he looks so adorable Ashton can't stand it, so he kisses Luke's cheek.

"C'mon, get dressed, I'll show you how to make a [Tequila Sunrise](http://thehoochlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/tequila_sunrise_2-266x399.jpg) next." Ashton suggests, raising an eyebrow, and apparently Luke thinks that's a good enough compromise, because he seems to realize Ashton's serious about not having the favor returned.

He waits while Luke readjusts his jeans and fixes his hair, before they both give each other a once over to make sure they're presentable.

Afterwards, when they're walking down the corridor back towards the stairs that lead up and back into the bar, Luke links their pinkies together, and Ashton blushes, lets him continue doing it until they're entering the club again and Luke pulls away.

"I still want to have a turn." Luke mumbles to him, and Ashton can't help the laugh that bubbles past his lips.

"If you wait around til closing, maybe I'll let you," he winks, the blonde boy blushing furiously, and for the first time all night, he kisses Luke in public  _properly_ , not giving the slightest fuck anymore about who might see them.

 

**/////**

 

"Last call!" One of the bartenders shouts from behind the counter, and Calum jumps a bit in surprise, looking from the red haired boy across from him down to his phone, which is telling him it's 2 AM, definitely time for last call.

Calum looks down to his empty glass of beer, and he debates buying a final round of beverages for himself and Michael. When he glances up at the boy, however, he's looking at Calum with an expression that too clearly shows something other than drinks is on his mind. It's not quite expectation, because he doesn't think Michael expects anything from him, but it sort of resembles wonderment, like he wants to know where they're going from here.

He asks himself that same question. Where  _are_ they going from here? He thinks Michael would come home with him if he asked, in fact he's almost  _positive_  he would. But now that he's faced with the big moment, his last chance to take Michael back to his place, he's not sure if he has it in him.

He really likes Michael, and it's worrying. He hasn't felt this way in ages, he's not even sure he's been doing anything right up to this moment.

But, he figures, Michael wouldn't have stayed if he hadn't been doing  _something_ right.

This might be scary for Calum, but it has to be downright crippling for Michael. His heart is still fragile, freshly broken, and he's already trusting Calum with it. Calum wants nothing more than to live up to the responsibility of taking care of it. And that, more than anything, is what gives him the courage he's been lacking.

"Do you - do you wanna get out of here?" Calum asks, biting his lip and looking into Michael's shining eyes.

The boy doesn't even hesitate, just smiles brightly and nods. "Yes."

Calum can't even fight the smile that forces its way onto his face (doesn't even try to), and he stands up from the table, helping Michael to do the same. "Let me just go close the tab, yeah?"

Michael nods, so Calum makes his way to the counter and flags down Luke's boy toy bartender. The curly haired boy slides up to Calum, dimples on full display as he grins ear to ear. Calum's nose crinkles when he sees his best friend behind the counter as well, the two of them blushing and giving each other stolen glances the whole time Calum is standing there. They're cute, and it's annoying, okay.

"One more round?" Ashton asks, but Calum shakes his head, fishing his credit card out of his wallet and handing it to the bartender.

"Nah. Closing out." Calum tells him, and Ashton nods, punching a few things onto the touch screen register before swiping the card and handing it back to the brunette along with his receipt. Calum doesn't even want to look at it yet, so he decides he'll review the damage tomorrow morning, sliding the items into his pocket.

" _Already_?" Luke asks, sounding horrified. He rushes over to his friend, resting his large, pale hand over Calum's forehead. The brunette laughs, shoving Luke's hand away. "What for?"

Calum smiles, turning and looking at Michael, who's scrolling through his phone as he leans against a wall by the exit. He's already slipped back into his leather jacket, eager to leave, apparently.

He hears Ashton murmur something to Luke, and suddenly the blonde boy is making a noise of realization and giggling.

"Well, then. Have fun, Cal." Luke winks when Calum turns to stick his tongue out at him.

"Whatever," he says fondly, spinning back around and making his way towards the beautiful boy he's somehow gotten to wait for him, the boy that somehow likes Calum just as much as Calum likes him.

Michael looks up from his phone and smiles when he sees Calum approaching, pocketing the small electronic and pushing himself into a more proper standing position. He looks lovely, Calum observes, the softer lighting on this end of the bar contrasting well against Michael's milky skin. Whether he consciously means to or not, he voices that thought.

"You look stunning." Calum says, and Michael snorts out a laugh, but he knows his words have truly touched the boy.

"Cheeseball. You ready to go?" Michael asks, and Calum nods, sliding into his own jacket as they exit the bar, immediately greeted by the crisp chill of early morning in Los Angeles. There's nobody outside, besides the bouncer, who looks relatively bored now that nobody's in the queue, since the bar is closing soon.

"So, um..." Calum trails off, pulling a folded beanie out of his jacket pocket and rolling it onto his head. He looks down the sidewalk that leads towards campus, to his dorm room. He almost suggests they go there, but he doesn't know if Luke is going to be staying the night with Ashton or not, and then there's the whole reminder aspect, and Calum's trying to  _forget_ about his failed courses, not run back to them.

"My apartment?" Michael offers, and Calum laughs aloud at the fact the boy so easily read his mind. Though, it probably wasn't difficult what with the situation they're in, unvoiced statements of  _your place or mine?_ heavy in the air.

"Sure." Calum nods, and Michael smiles, extending his hand. Calum immediately takes it, loving the warmth it brings to his already frosting fingers. Michael tugs him gently in the opposite direction of Calum's dorms, and he just follows blindly, caught up in watching the twinkling of the street lights. They may as well be stars, Calum decides, as he easily falls in stride alongside the most beautiful boy in the universe.

And when they wake up the next day, sheets rumpled and the orange haze of early morning streaking in through Michael's blinds, Calum looks over to the boy's sleeping form, curls into his arms more deeply and smiles as Michael tightens his grip around his waist and mumbles Calum's name in his sleep.

Sometimes, Calum guesses, what starts out as a failure very well might result in the greatest success of all.

 

**~~~~~**

 

The sun is starting to come up in Los Angeles, that's how long Luke's been waiting. It's cold outside, his nose just  _feels_ beet red, and he's still really regretting not wearing a proper jacket to the bar.

Calum left with Michael over two hours ago, and since he hasn't gotten any texts from his best friend other than one saying he made it to Michael's apartment safely, he assumes they're still going at it. And even if he  _is_ incredibly bored, he's not willing to disturb his best friend with a text and inevitably deal with the wrath of an interrupted and sexually frustrated Calum Hood.

Ashton told him to wait, though, so that's what he's doing. Even though the bar is closed and he was forced to leave the warmth of the building about thirty minutes ago, he still waits. Ashton is probably just cleaning up, conned into an additional hour of work because let's be honest - in the food industry, you never get off work at your scheduled time.

Another twenty minutes of shivering later, and Luke is starting to think this was all a scheme Ashton set up to avoid hanging out with Luke. The blonde is suddenly very stressed about that idea, thinking that  _oh god, Calum was right_  and  _He's probably having a fucking laugh at me being stood up_. He's sort of hyperventilating, pacing, and he probably looks crazy.

Maybe he  _is_ crazy. Ashton seems to do that to him. He should just get a cab, peel out of here before he's further humiliated.

"Hey, you actually waited! Sorry about that, I got tricked into loading the dishwashers, which let me tell you, takes  _much_ longer than you'd think." A familiar, singsong voice jokes, and Luke spins around in surprise to see Ashton exiting the bar and wrapping a scarf around his neck.

Luke's pissed at that scarf. It's totally unnecessary, because Ashton has on boots, a thick wool coat, cute black gloves and a knitted beanie, he doesn't even  _need_ that scarf. Even if it does look adorable as hell on him.

"It's okay." Luke says quickly, reassuringly. Then, he sighs. "Hey, look, I wanted to apologize really quickly."

Ashton furrows his eyebrows, frowning. He sticks his hands in his coat pockets, and Luke envies him, shivering again. "What for?"

Luke groans, rubbing the back of his neck and crossing his legs. He must look so stupid, god, why can't he just grow a pair?

"Like, for being so...clingy, I guess? I mean, it was just a blowjob, right? That's it, but I just really fucking like you and I can't help but feel like it meant more than that and I'm sorry because I'm  _sure_ you don't think it did." Luke's rambling, he knows he is, but he can't bring himself to stop once he's started. "It's just... _God_ , Ash, you make me feel things I've never felt before, and that's really scary for me, but I was just hoping you might feel something back because I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with losing this feeling yet."

When he's done talking, he forces himself to look at Ashton, to see his initial reaction. Which, surprisingly, isn't annoyance, disgust, or shock. It's just Ashton, smiling widely and stepping closer to the blonde boy.

"It wasn't just a blowjob." Is all Ashton says, but it's all Luke needs to hear. Those words are everything - they're the confirmation that this whole night hasn't been one sided, that Ashton feels something, too. It sends Luke's heart soaring. 

"Also," Luke stumbles out before he can reel the words back in, "I'd like to see what other kinds of sex are like. With you, preferably."

Ashton throws his head back in a loud laugh, the best one Luke's heard all night. When he rights himself, his cheeks are red from smiling, and he leans forward, grasping Luke's cheeks between his palms and kissing the boy firmly.

"I'm not going to have any more sex with you today, Lukey." Ashton says when he pulls away, and Luke feels a twinge of rejection hit his gut. It's not there for long, though, because apparently that's not all Ashton has to say on the matter. "I want you to know it means something, because it does.  _You_ do. Fuck, Luke, you mean so much already, and that's terrifying, but I'm more scared to run away  _from_  you than I am to run away  _with_ you."

Luke wants to cry, because Ashton is literally too perfect, he  _can't_ be real. So he just makes a desperate little noise, surging forward and leaping into Ashton's arms. Their lips smash together, and Luke swings his legs around Ashton's waist. The older boy easily holds him up, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing back just as fiercely.

What feels like hours but is probably more like seconds later, Ashton sets Luke down, separating their lips and tracing his fingers along Luke's jaw gently, as though he's afraid he'll break the boy.

"I know this great place for coffee down the road. They should be open about now. Care to join me?" Ashton asks, and Luke nods without even thinking, because it shouldn't even be a question. Luke would follow Ashton anywhere in this moment, probably. 

Ashton shrugs out of his coat, holding it open for Luke who greedily slides it on without a second thought. He sighs at the warmth, muttering a soft 'thank you'. He can smell Ashton's cologne on it, can feel the heat from his body lingering on the wool.

He takes Ashton's hand, walking closely beside him on the sidewalk as they head towards the coffee shop, the first rays of sunlight peeking over the mountains on the horizon.

Luke finds himself thinking, as he grips Ashton's hand and takes in the profile of his stunning face in the dusky glow of the sunrise, that although sometimes  _nothing_ changes in just one night, other times just about  _everything_ does.

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this literally took so long to write. Like, almost three weeks (which is a wicked long time for me to write a fic, ok). It's sort of my baby, so be gentle.
> 
> Follow me!  
> Tumblr: dafeedil  
> Twitter: @swans0ngs


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